


Alive and Free

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Agent Perkins is the devil, Connor Needs A Hug, Connor and Markus are good boyfriends, Connor loves hugs, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Lieutenant Dad, M/M, Post Pacifist Ending, Some Action, Some Humor, Some Romance, anti-android hate groups, please give Connor hugs, some sexy action, will post triggers in each chapter summary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: Connor and Hank reunite as Connor is trying to find his place in the world. he finds it at Markus's side, both in the next step of the revolution and in Markus's arms.Soon the gang realize that those that don't believe that they are alive and should be free will do anything to prove it--including those that were meant to protect them.Lieutenant Dad and Hostage Connor starring in "Alive and Free"M for language, some lemony android love, and graphic violence. I'll be posting warnings in chapters as needed for some things, since lots of this is kind of fluffy.enjoy <3





	1. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Connor is getting his legs under him on his own in Detroit  
> 2\. Hank is coming home after some time away, but... even though he didn't miss this shit hole, he did miss Connor.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

To be fair, things after releasing thousands, no, _hundreds of thousands_ of _slaves_ from their slavery is always chaotic and more than a little bit messy. Larger cities like Detroit, Los Angeles, New York, Miami, Dallas, Austin, and Houston in Texas, and other metropolitan centers in the midwest were practically devoid of humans within only a few days thanks to the President's orders to evacuate. 

Some abandoned their homes and jobs, simply taking what they could and leaving the cities behind. Others with more of a windfall were able to find comfortable places to live and pack up comfortably. 

Homelessness and violent crime became rampant. Just two days, thirty-three minutes, and twenty-eight seconds ago, Connor stopped a bitter human man from practically tearing off an android man's head. The man was angry and desperate because his family suddenly couldn't buy food and water since most stores had been abandoned and promptly looted, leaving them stripped of food, medication, water, and other basic things.

Androids began to squat in abandoned homes or live in the streets because the United States Congress had not decided whether or not to compensate them for damages and wages lost, which in turn left them penniless but also with not a lot of options for places to live or work. Those that did not previously have private owners didn't have access to money, so they were left drifting.

Connor frowned. _If this is what Markus wanted to fight so hard for..._ He sighed. He hadn't seen him or North since the end of the revolution, two weeks before, but there was one thing he was more worried about: he hadn't seen Lieutenant Anderson. _Did he leave? Did he just... abandon this place like so many others?_ The more sorrowful, _did he abandon me?_ was something that Connor was forcefully ignoring. Although the older man had been instrumental in saving the outcome of the revolution, the last thing he'd known was that he was being disciplined for going against his orders—whatever that other... thing... had told the lieutenant and his captain had made Hank believe something different until it was almost too late.

 _I saved him,_ Connor reassured himself. _Lieutenant Anderson is going to be alright._ Convincing himself of this, he busied himself with the task that he'd given himself since he didn't have an Amanda to keep him focused on any mission. 

Unadulterated _fear_ crowded into his mind as he remembered her cold words, her cold face... how easy it was for her to imprison him inside his own mind. _I trusted her and she was just a backdoor in my programming so that they could control me._

Connor felt something that he was struggling to get used to: guilt. He wondered if humans also found it so easy to blame themselves for things that were so out of their own control, so statistically _astronomically_ unlikely to be prevented. But that little niggle in the back of his mind, the _you should have known! You could have stopped this!_ was weighing on him, crushing the Thirium pump in his chest and causing the neuro-sensors in his fingertips to fire nonsensically, painfully, like he should be _doing something—_

Painfully? He stared at his hands, disbelieving. Was that what pain felt like? He assessed himself carefully, and his shoulders slumped with relief when he found no abnormalities in his systems. He hadn't felt pain, that was just his newfound emotions... they were doing strange things to him.

No wonder humans always seemed so fragile, so volatile. If they dealt with these things constantly, it made sense that some of them succumbed and became ruled by them. How could they not? But that was the flaw in humans' programming, not his own.

 _Not yet, anyway._ Humans had millions of years to evolve. Deviant androids had only days, weeks at best. They were all too new at this for them not to find new flaws in their own programming, new _deviants_ that would probably also demand rights, have emotional flaws, irrationalities...

He turned back to his task with a shake of his head. He had been spending his nights with a few other androids cleaning up the city after the damage caused by the revolution's barricades and break-ins, and the things after the revolution such as looting, some riots or violent demonstrations, murders of androids, and other things.

There are others with him, androids he'd woken up in the CyberLife tower. He asked them all to choose and register their own names, something he'd taken to doing for all of the androids he encountered. He found that having a name gave them a sense of identity. After the revolution, many of the androids from the warehouses and the CyberLife tower that were awoken suddenly disappeared, and he realized grimly that not having a previous owner or occupation made them feel aimless and purposeless, causing many of them to leave the city or terminate themselves. Having been a prototype with a name and an occupation prior to the revolution, his choice to abandon his mission left him with a sense of starting over. It was important to him that it was _his choice_ to save Lieutenant Anderson, to join the revolution. That was what the revolution was about, after all.

But these others—Elizabeth, for example, who was one of the models created for _adult entertainment—_ did not have a choice, and had no idea what she was destined for prior to the revolution. She had to build her identity from scratch, and something about that was utterly exhausting and terrifying for these androids. 

But not him. His _name_ is Connor, and he was sent by CyberLife to investigate deviants with Lieutenant Anderson. He was _made for something,_ and that identity drives him. He has done his level best in the process of cleaning up the city to give them all access to reading materials, entertainment, and more to help them understand the world, to give them skills outside of the ones they were programmed for. Still, something feels strange. He knows it is that he can't figure out where Lieutenant Anderson went.

The winter drove their cleanup operations to a screeching halt as the lakes dumped piles on piles of snow on the city, leaving them to scurry into abandoned homes and warehouses and huddle up around burning piles of wood and garbage for some measure of light and warmth.

Connor is in one such place now, surrounded by his new friends and fellow helpers in his task to clean up the city. He decides to plan their routes for the next day. With the dramatic increase in android-related crimes, he doesn't want any of them to operate alone. There are sixteen of them here including himself, and so he will ask them to split into groups of four. Tonight, he finds that the shopping center will be a good place to be, if they are all there at once, in different sectors of the area, they will be able to clean up the entire shopping center quickly and be able to protect themselves from looters and squatters that could become aggressive. The others may consider stealing clothing to keep their temperatures better regulated, but Connor doesn't feel the need for those things. He just wants to help, any way that he can. After they finish the shopping center, which he calculates it will take the sixteen of them approximately seven hours, they will simply stay there, not willing to risk going to another location at that time of night and be attacked. It will also be inside a building, isolated from the howling winds and plummeting temperatures. Also, the shopping center is only one point three-seven miles away from their current location, and they will not suffer the temperatures too long. Depending on the routes they could take, they will also be at less risk of attack. 

He presents his plan to the others, and they agree decide on routes and plans for how to quickly get through the area, and also what they should and shouldn't clean up. Obviously any repairs are off limits, but basic safety things such as glass removal, basic cleaning, and some store clean-ups can be managed, as well as large obstacles to a certain extent. Everything gets decided on, and they made their way to the shopping center with ease. Elizabeth, Vera, Andrew, and Daniel make their way up to the second floor east. Ellis, Jason, and Tim go with him to the east wing of the first floor. Emma, Will, Karen, and Stephen go up to the west side of the second floor, and Dylan, Cory, Ethan, and Ithaca take the first floor of the west wing.

While he works he thinks about Lieutenant Anderson. _Hank,_ he tells himself. He searches his memory for that band he found in Hank's MP3 player. _Knights of the Black Death._ A Death Metal Band _._ He replays the memory in his mind, listening to the song. It just sounds like data and sound waves to him, but he tries to like it just the same. He tries to get used to it, because that is all _Hank_ listens to in the car.

 _I wish I could find out where he is now._ Connor had tried tracking his cellphone. His car was old, and therefore there were no automated or computer parts that he could track. He'd checked on his home. Even Sumo was gone, his food almost emptied and put away in an airtight container. The fridge was empty, and barely any clothing was left in the closet—not that there had been much to begin with, really, but...

 _Did he leave?_ Echoes through his processor, right before _does he hate me now?_ or the ever present _did he abandon me?_ which gives him that weird not-pain sensation again. Two weeks have passed since he last saw Lieutenant— _Hank._ He doesn't really know what to do now so he just... works. Cleans at night. 

And he waits.

* * *

_Hank_

* * *

Hank hadn't missed Detroit at all, if he was honest. 

Captain Fowler had been furious, and Reed and Perkins had been practically foaming at the mouth to see him lose his badge. The argument had been loud and brutal: Perkins cursing up a storm, damning the 'plastic cunt machines' to hell, Reed fuming at how Hank had let that _plastic pet_ of his fuck the whole investigation up, and “ _the nerve of that fucking thing to talk to me knowing it was a traitorous, defective piece of shit just like the rest of them, fuck them all!”_

Meanwhile the Captain was also irritated because he was fielding more phone calls than he could keep track of from the commissioner, the mayor, the damn army, the FBI obviously, and even Madam President—all up his ass about how he'd handled one thing or another. He was obviously going to pass that heat on down the line to Hank, who had already decided that, after that fake Connor had held a gun to his head and his true Connor saved his life (again), he would gladly take whatever they did to him and make sure Connor was unharmed, un-reprimanded... _free._

However, since public opinion and, more importantly, politicians' opinion seem in favor of allowing the androids to operate autonomously, Captain Fowler and Agent Perkins were less than pleased about how little punishment they could inflict on Hank and Connor. There was a hard _thwack_ on his wrist for allowing Connor to convert the entire warehouse of androids, but nothing else.

Hank received two weeks of suspension with reduced pay, and he spent his most recent paycheck with Sumo in the car next to him, barhopping through towns until he reached Chicago and lost his paycheck on all the whiskey in the whole damn city (or so it felt like to his poor hung-over head) before making his way back. 

 _Connor._ He'd mocked the android once, asking him if he was a deviant. He'd also mocked the android for _not_ being a deviant, for being simply a machine programmed to complete a task. The more he drank, the more his mind replayed all the times he'd been cruel, thinking that Connor was a machine and it wouldn't matter. _How wrong I was._

The more he drank, the more he replayed. The more he replayed, the more he drank. He felt, ironically, like a robot only programmed for two things. _You really should stop drinking,_ nagged Connor in his memory. 

Now that he is on his way home, he is replaying the last time he saw Connor in his mind, shuddering again and again, thinking about how that other _new_ Connor had him fooled. _Same voice, same eyes, same pretty-boy hair, same model number shining on the right breast of his jacket._

 _But no heart._ He frowns. The Connor that had been following him around never nagged him about his drinks, never asked invasive questions... _never cared._ He should have realized it, but to be honest, he was probably relieved to have the bit of personal space.

He shot that one in the head without a second thought, but towards the end, he could tell he— _it, that one was nothing but a plastic sack of shit—_ had been desperate. Maybe they were all deviant in one way or another. Maybe they were not _deviant_ at all. Maybe it was a natural thing for them to care about being killed, to be afraid to die. As natural a thing as it would be for a human.

“No, it wasn't the same,” Hank tells himself out loud, navigating through the ridiculous amount of snow in the highways at this time. With all the chaos, he doubts people were going to be worried about plowing or salting the roads. “That... _RK800_... was only afraid of failing at his mission. _My_ Connor was—is a...” a what? A deviant? A living man that bleeds blue like he does?

Funny. As a cop he'd talked about bleeding blue—and that used to be a good thing until android-blood turned out to be blue and cops dissociated from that idea. Now he wonders if Connor would even want to go back to investigating. Was Connor ever even his partner? His friend? He'd certainly treated Hank that way, despite Hank's awful treatment of him.

“If I find you, Connor, someday... I'll ask.” It's the first time he's felt hope about something for a long time.

 

 

 


	2. a hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Hank is introspecting. he texts Connor the same nervous way someone would drunk-text an ex.  
> 2\. Connor gets Hank's message and promptly has an internal freak out.  
> 3\. Hank gets to hug his beautiful boyyyyy  
> 4\. Connor is relieved he didn't get left behind.

* * *

_Hank_

* * *

What does someone say to the person that saved his life? 

He'd been drunk and staring into the barrel of his off duty weapon before he woke up in the shower, being doused with cold water by Connor. He'd been hanging literally off a ledge, and figuratively off a cliff. It would have been easy for him to let go. He'd wanted to—hell, the way that incident turned out made him think that he wished he had in that moment.

But despite that, it was Connor that started to wake him up again, that made him _see—_ and it wasn't just his irritating berating of Hank's drinking habit, it was his persistence in pulling him up from his own darkness and focusing him on the tasks at hand. No one had been so persistent in his life since he got promoted up to Sargent, and then to Lieutenant. No one has been so annoying about making sure he lives—not before, and not since.

He had hated it at first—he hated that Connor was only worried about him on account of _failing his mission—_ but now he knows. He knows because of the way Connor said Cole's name that it was more than just failing at a task. He knows because he watched Connor again and again make the choice _for life_ instead of death. _Connor was “just a machine” but he paid more attention to my life than my own captain, whom I am supposed to trust with my life._

The irony makes his stomach burn. _How wrong I was..._

He sits in his car in front of his house and babbles out loud until Sumo scratches at the door, wanting to be let out: “Connor, I just want to say—no, that's fucking stupid. Hi—Connor, I'm glad you're alright. Thanks for all of your help. That would make him happy, right? Since when am I so fucking concerned about making anyone happy? I picked the wrong fucking week to stop drinking.”

He picks up his phone. Sends a message.

 

 

And he waits.  


* * *

_Connor_

* * *

Connor freezes when he receives the message. _I just want to see that you're alright. If you can, meet me by the food truck. You know the one._

The other overwhelming feelings he'd been experiencing in the recent days are suddenly replaced by something he could only describe as elation. He replies immediately. _I'm glad you are alright, Lieutenant. I was worried about you. I will meet you by the food truck in the morning._

The answer is almost instant. _Connor, you're as frustrating as you are stupid. You should know by now that I don't do mornings._

Connor doesn't know whether to be offended or to laugh. _Why don't you just tell me when you're there?_

_Fine._ Moments later Lieutenant Anderson also typed, _I hope to see you soon._

Connor finds himself rushing through his work as if he could make the morning come faster if he works faster. He forces himself to slow down, to triple check the work he'd rushed through. He forcefully pushes the messages to the back of his mind, allowing himself to work automatically for a while. He runs through his memory of the death metal band, distracting himself with accessing musical databases and finding similar bands and songs. He lets himself analyze that data as well. He _listens_ to it. He wonders about how humans connected to music on such an emotional level, but he accepted some time ago that those things are not for him to interpret or understand.

Or could he?

He stops analyzing the music. Ties his trash bag. Takes it to the dumpster, tosses it in. 

“You have been quiet tonight, Connor.” Ellis, the PL600 that was the only other Android in this group that had a previous identity and owner, glances at his friend with a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. Ellis is as tall as Connor, his appearance different from what was designed by his human counterparts: brown hair instead of blonde, and the perfectly combed side-parting appearance trimmed to very short, spiky styling with faded sides. His eyes are still bright gray.

“I received a message from an old friend,” Connor explains, heaving himself on to a bench.

“A human friend?” spits Tim. “Let me guess. You wanna go running back to your slavedriver and leave us here to clean up their mess, huh?” He sounds a little bit like North.

“If you're so opposed to cleaning up, why don't you just take off?” Jason rolls his eyes. “We're cleaning up because the humans are bound to want to come back to their city at some point. They live here too whether they are here or not. We need to make an effort to show them that we can be civilized.”

“More than they are,” Tim snorts. “They are downright evil if you ask me.”

“Well, nobody did,” Jason quips with fake cheeriness.

Tim glares.

“Was your... your human, I guess... was he like Tim says?” Asks Ellis quietly, sitting down next to Connor and giving him a reassuring smile.

“He is... complicated. I am honestly not sure if we are friends.”

“He probably wants to shoot you in the head. I say you should just stay away. We dealt with capricious humans and their disdain for too long.”

Ellis shrugs. “You're not wrong—I don't think I could ever go back to them. The adults were indifferent but the kids... they were downright sadistic. And—I mean, they were children, even if it weren't in my programming, I wouldn't have done anything that could have harmed them, even to defend myself.”

Connor shakes his head. “No, he is not—you both were always aware that I am an RK800 model?”

“Oh yeah, the deviant hunter,” Tim sneers.

“Lieutenant Anderson was my handler in the deviant investigations. He is...” Connor sighs. “He is a man that is lonely and in pain. Maybe he is not like us, and maybe his kind were cruel but... I know you understand at least that.”

“Of course,” Ellis says kindly.

“He used to hate our kind but... I am not sure—I mean, he is the reason I was able to free the others, like Jason. And he seemed fond of me in the end, but I am not sure how to interpret that. I find myself quite a bit anxious about meeting him. I am not sure what to expect.”

Jason perks up from where he is sweeping the last of the glass, and smiles. He seems to be taking his current identity crisis the best out of all of them. An optimistic sort, he continually admonishes the others to choose to view this as an opportunity. Connor has half a mind to send him to find Markus and North, they could probably find a purpose for someone like him. “You shouldn't be. Humans have strange ways of manifesting their emotions. We're all done on this floor, guys. How's everyone else?”

The other groups check in, two of them letting Connor know that they are wrapping up and will be ready to join them in about twenty minutes. 

“For what it's worth, those of them that are left are really trying to get along with us and help this city together. If this Lieutenant reached out to you and he seemed to have positive feelings towards you, it may be a good thing for you. Proceeding with caution, of course, but having help from him, especially in the police force, could be beneficial for you, and for all of us.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Connor says idly. “But that is contingent upon whether or not he is still friendly, or is feeling more like the scenario Tim proposed.”

“I still don't think you should be too worried. Look, here come the others.”

They get to talking about their progress in the shopping center, everything they have completed and what would be left for the mall managers to do. Then the conversation breaks down into news about the city, other androids, friendly humans, and the like.

Connor mostly just sits and listens. Most of these people have no previous experiences with humans, good or bad, so their opinions were only based on the rare instances of human interaction since the revolution.

He thinks about his own human interactions, namely the consistent ones. Detective Reed, who hates him from core processor to neural receptors, and constantly hurls insults and epithets at him ( _Plastic asshole_ seemed to be his favorite, along with _fucking prick, tin can_ and _son of a bitch._ Even the rare times that the detective said his name, it sounded like an insult) and Captain Fowler, who is always clearly less than pleased to see him but mostly ignores him. His memory automatically replays all of his interactions with them: The time (or times) that Detective Reed insulted him, going as far as to pull a firearm and aim it at his forehead before calling him a prick. The severe looks he always received from Captain Fowler had long since made him decide that he would let Lieutenant Anderson do the talking and that he would remain silent, since there was literally no chance that anything he said would please the captain.

There was the episode with the SWAT officers during the hostage crisis involving that little girl, Emma. Almost all of them seemed to despise his very existence, let alone his presence in their negotiation, but they managed to tolerate him long enough to save her. He shrugged that off then as he does now. _The girl is alive. Mission accomplished._  

He wonders if the humans' hatred for androids will ever go away. Tim would argue a definitive _never,_ while Jason with his optimistic, helpful attitude that was both programmed into his coding and learned through his short life experiences, would argue that they shouldn't give up and find ways to help them understand.

He raises the question out loud, trying to sound casual rather than plaintive. He isn't sure he succeeded, but the question spawns the discussion he'd hoped for, and he listens attentively to all of the arguments. He decides that he will wait to meet Hank tomorrow before making any brash decisions.  
  
He also hopes nobody notices his LED flickering red.  


* * *

_Hank_

* * *

Hank buys himself coffee. _Lots_ of coffee. Like, one of those thirty-ounce sizes from that expensive chain shop. He drinks the whole thing with only one sugar, the sugar barely taking the edge off the bitter taste of the coffee, although he could care less as long as the coffee takes the edge off his hangover and warms him up some.  
  
He drives around to the food truck, pensive and anxious. His dog is comfortably at home again, food and water set out for him, his bed fluffed and deodorized, his spot near the door appropriately claimed for watching the street and barking at whoever chose to challenge his territory by walking along. It is now one in the afternoon, and he sent the message saying that he'd arrived and would be at the food truck within a few minutes _more than two hours ago,_ and it is starting to get cold again. He sits in his car, idling it to run the heat. He gets out and paces again, turning mournfully toward the food truck, which is still closed for business. He thinks it might never open again, since there is a good chance (Connor would say a high probability) that the owners evacuated the city.  
  
Finally, footsteps. The snow makes a light crunching sound underneath booted feet, the too-smooth gait and exact footfalls causing the snow to sound uniquely like Connor—at least, to Hank. He turns to watch him. Connor seems unruffled as he usually does. It is one of the things that used to bother Hank about him, and androids in general. Their non-reactions, too smooth appearances and too-perfect responses were in themselves awkward and inhuman. Maybe some part of Hank had always wanted the damn things to become deviant, to become _alive._ Maybe he always wanted them to stop being _things.  
  
_ They stand a few feet apart now, Hank looking Connor over with something like affection in his eyes. His mouth ticks up on one side in a slight smile. _He's alright._ That is the thought that spurs him forward before he even truly processes what it is that he wants. He walks forward, gripping Connor's shoulder hard. Connor meets his eyes evenly like he always does, the guileless brown searching his own blue eyes.  
  
He pulls Connor's head against his chest and holds him tightly.  


* * *

_Connor_

* * *

Connor knows he is late, but every route he calculates is overrun by looters, androids that are aggressive, obstacles or other dangers. He would prefer to avoid a fight if at all possible. With CyberLife scrambling to handle the fallout of the revolution, he doubts he could be repaired or replaced again if he becomes damaged or destroyed in a stupid fight.

_Injured or killed._ He is still having some issues referring to himself as a person. His processes and calculations make him vividly aware that he is _not_ human like his creators. Still, he is alive, and he does not want to die or be replaced. 

_I just want to see Hank._

He circles back towards the shopping center. If there is a roof access he can get to, he might be able to avoid most of the obstacles by simply going over them. He searches to see if he has access to the shopping center's blueprints. Pleased, he looks for all the roof access points, determining which will make for the easiest jump to the next roof top.

His jaw tenses, clenching on itself. There are no ways to another roof that wouldn't cause him permanent damage. There is, however, a thirty-two point four six six chance that he can cross the street to a different roof access without being attacked or otherwise damaged. It is a slim chance, but he will take it. With his route calculated, he realizes that he will arrive more than an hour and forty minutes after Hank's arrival.

He fights back another sigh with the logic that he should reserve his breaths for regulating his temperature and maintaining his Thirium pump in optimal condition. He decides to wait out some of the looters in the area, hiding until they pass into the shopping center by another entrance. This greatly increases his chances of getting across the street unnoticed, and he is glad that he did so. He scoots around cars and runs through the minimal traffic, ducking into the business nearby.

He's promptly greeted by two humans with bats and knives.

_Shit._

“Take whatever you like,” he says calmly, his hands raised and spread apart in a gesture of surrender. “I am just passing through.”

“Good answer, pretty boy,” sneers the first of the two humans. A facial recognition analysis reveals a 99% chance that this person is Daniel Muñez, fingerprints on record for three separate assault and battery charges and one count of robbery paired with assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder in the commission of a crime. Connor can smell (read:: his olfactory receptors have properly analyzed and identified) the smoked red ice on his breath, even from his distance of two and a half feet.

Behind him, the other human is disheveled and looks a bit desperate. Another facial recognition analysis reveals to him that the human's name is Uriel Vargas and has similar charges on his record. Connor feels himself bracing for the imminent danger these two represent. A quick glance around lets him see the LED on his temple switching undecidedly between yellow and red, reflecting off of a shattered glass wall display.

He doesn't want to hurt either of them, but his objective is to meet Hank, and he will have to harm them to disarm them. He calculates the best ways to disarm them without causing any life-threatening injuries. A twist of the second man's wrist will get rid of the knife, but the first man seems to be wielding his bat with threatening expertise. A scan confirms that the man carries a firearm in the back of the waistband of his pants.

He proceeds carefully. He quickly takes the bat and the gun from Muñez, ejecting the magazine and the round in the chamber and throwing them all out the front door as Vargas lunges with the knife. Connor feels it slice through the back of his jacket, but thankfully it doesn't tag his actual body. He fights not to wince at the crack of the man's wrist as he takes the knife and throws it away, shoving his foot as hard as he can into the back of the man's knee and sending him to the ground. He does cringe at the resulting wail. He runs through the back of the store before either of them can recover.

From there, he moves easily over rooftops, out of the worst parts of the downtown area. He still sticks to rooftops and alleyways, avoiding being seen as best he can, although the vantage points help him settle down some. He has to change his route a couple of times. Sometimes, he is choosing to take slightly riskier ones in favor of saving time—but only if the difference in risk is minimal. Other times, the risk factors have changed and it is better to take a detour.

He finally comes out of an alleyway under an overpass. The food truck is closed, up ahead about an eighth of a mile. He walks along the street and tries to blend in with the minimal amount of pedestrians, but his blue jacket with the RK800 brightly light on his right breast is a dead giveaway. He keeps calm and walks forward, crossing the street and into the empty lot where the food truck is. Hank is pacing in front of it, occasionally sending it baleful looks before looking around as if trying to spot someone.

_He's been waiting for me this whole time!_ Connor quickens his pace. Finally, he's close enough that Hank hears him coming. He slows down, afraid to appear aggressive. He takes a steadying breath, making sure that his systems are being regulated properly.  
  
_All systems OK._

When Hank sees him, he smiles. Connor can't help the returning grin, which fades when the lieutenant walks forward, standing right in front of him. Hank smells like booze and coffee, leather and snow, but that is nothing new. Actually, in the moment, it is rather comforting. His hand lands on Connor's shoulder, his eyes warm with something friendly and joyful. Then Connor finds himself pressed against the taller man, his arms wrapped tightly around the android. He freezes, automatically calculating ways to extract himself without harming Hank if it becomes necessary. But then, Hank's hand smoothes over his back, tapping against him once, twice. His other hand presses Connor's face closer against him. Connor finds himself enveloped in warmth and cigarette smoke, stale liquor and rich coffee. He counts one hundred and twenty two dog hairs.

_A hug?_ His social protocols quickly process the best way to respond. He gives into the embrace, tentatively lifting his own arms around the older man's middle. In response, Hank's hand smoothes over his jacket again. Up, down. Up, down. A circuit that Connor finds strangely relaxing.

“I'm glad you're alright, kid,” Hank says, his voice low.

“Likewise,” Connor says, because he can't really process any other socially acceptable responses. He decides to run a diagnostic on his social protocols.

“You smell awful,” Hank gripes.

“My apologies, Lieutenant,” Connor says, immediately pulling away and backing up several steps.

“Why do you always have to apolo—you know what? Come to the house and take off all that smelly shit. I'll find you clothes to wear that are warmer than that CyberLife piece-of-shit uniform.”

“Lieutenant, the area is overrun by dangerous men. I advise strongly against attempting to find clothing in any—”

“I mean, something of mine. I was skinny once, and young looking like you,” Hank grunts, pointing at the car. “Get in, it's freezing.”

Connor accepts, still feeling... _something..._ about that hug.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cried at that little scene tho. genuine tears. i wanted to hug Connor too.
> 
> wow so many hits already! keep em coming guys, let me know what you think and if you've got anything to say drop in that little box down there. I read every one I get :)


	3. New Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Connor and Hank reconnect  
> 2\. Connor goes to the old church, where there is a secondary New Jericho base.  
> 3\. Hank does the protective dad bit, and Connor is not amused.  
> 4\. Hank gives Connor his unconditional support.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

Connor had asked where Hank went, and Hank only answered with a grunt. After that the ride was mostly quiet, Connor's hands resting lightly on his thighs, his eyes cataloguing everything that passed by the passenger window.

Once in the house, Hank says, “Fowler was pissed that I let you get away with turning all those androids. I got suspended for two weeks.”

Connor frowns. “I'm sorry for causing you trouble.”

“It was no trouble, kid. Not on you, anyway. With the President and Congress giving in to Markus's demands and public opinion mostly in favor, Fowler didn't fire me because he figured that it would cause a huge scandal. You ended up saving my ass whether you knew it or not. Ended up drinking my way to and through Chicago.”

Connor lets out a surprisingly undignified snort. “Captain Fowler would have made a terrible mistake doing so regardless. And you really should quit all of that drinking.”

Hank holds up a fresh mug of coffee. “Here here,” he chuckles. “I am,” he says after a comfortable silence. “Police union has substance abuse help. I emailed someone yesterday.”

Connor looks at him with wide eyes. To Hank, it looks like they are more than a bit glassy. “I'm... very happy to hear that, Lieutenant,” he whispers.

“Don't get all touchy-feely on me now,” Hank grunts. “All your nagging is paying off. You're just gonna have to drive with me everywhere to make sure I don't pull into a liquor store. Or Jimmy's.”

“Anything,” Connor says honestly.

Hank glances at him, somewhere between touched and curious. “You mean that?” Connor nods, and he sighs, downing the rest of his coffee. “You're better than I used to think. It's irritating.” He stands up and walks toward the back of the house, Sumo hopping up and trotting after him. 

Connor just sits on the couch, grateful.

* * *

  _Connor_

* * *

Hank had returned to work upon the end of his suspension, two days after they reunited. Connor, now the proud owner of two new pairs of pants, three dress shirts, a new tie, a black blazer, and a dark green winter coat with a black beanie and scarf, returned to cleaning up around the city.

When he met up with his friends again, they were all grateful to receive similar outfits, courtesy of Hank. He had several tubs of clothing from years ago that he never got rid of, allowing Connor to pick through and find things that fit him. When Connor asked if he intended to keep the womens' clothes, Hank snorted. “Take it and burn it for all I care. It belonged to the ex-old lady.”

Now his friends all have shirts, sweaters, and other clothes that shield them from the cold with much more efficiency. When Hank finally realized why Connor had wanted to take all of those tubs with him back to the warehouses, he turned up two days later with more clothes, mostly winter coats and boots, along with other things to keep them warm.

Tim hadn't said much except a whispered 'thank you' since Hank left.

Now, after another successful night of cleaning, this time clearing road blocks and helping clean up the area around the hospital, they all sit contentedly around a fire (“for fucksakes, if you need wood, just ask. Just don't send Connor home smelling like garbage again. The lot of you reek.”) and discuss their plans to continue helping with the clean up of the hospital area.

Connor stands. “It is time for me to go,” he says quietly. “Lieutenant Anderson is currently working with the police department to control the squatting situation. He has asked me to help him locate Markus to help negotiate new housing for all of you.”

“Housing?” Jason asks excitedly.

“So you're going to leave us here again?” Tim, of course, ever the pessimist.

“What kind of housing?”

“Well, the consensus seems to be among the humans that evacuated the city, that most of the lower and lower-middle classes do not have the means to return to the city, and have found jobs and homes elsewhere or are in the process of doing so. Humans that own luxury homes or apartments will return eventually, but that leaves much of the city empty and scrambling to make up for lost rental contracts. With the already-alarming amount of abandoned lots and properties in the area, redevelopment with consideration for androids would be an enormous help in solving the problem.”

“What does all of that mean?” asks Ithaca, her temple's yellow circle turning leisurely.

Connor's smile is rather triumphant. “It means that the city is willing to negotiate stable housing for those of us not wanting to live with humans.”

“So not you,” Ellis says with a smile.

Connor lifts a shoulder. “For the time being, my living situation is stable. I will be working towards the same status for all of you.” His shoulder drops. “However the squatting and the looting has to be controlled, and so the police department is working in overtime. With very little android police officers available and a high percentage of patrol persons unavailable because of the evacuation, the police force is severely overworked and understaffed.”

“Of course they would be. Let me know if we can help,” says Ellis.

“Can I come with you? I've always wanted to meet Markus!” Jason bounces to his feet. “After you freed us I figured that working with him would be a dream come true, but... I never got to meet him. And helping all of us have a place to live is as good a cause as any.”

Connor nods. “Of course. Any help significantly improves our probability of success.”

The two set off early. With his objective clearly in mind, Connor suggests that they move toward the road near where he had last seen Markus. It was possible that he'd taken his team and gone back there to set up. Or, there could be someone nearby that could help him locate them.

The day is cold, but not as cold as the previous ones. Connor enjoys the winter sun, diffused by the white film of clouds and pollution in the air. They use rooftops again, staying out of sight. Connor doesn't tell Jason, but Hank gave him his off-duty firearm (“I would rather not see your brains smeared all over my crime scene. What do android brains even look like?”) which he keeps tucked under his sweater on his right side. He also keeps a blade tucked on the inside of his ankle under his sock, also courtesy of Hank (“No, that isn't excessive. I know you're pretty good at disarming people but you can't be too safe. Quit questioning everything I give you before you drive me to drink again!”).

“Will you tell me about your friend from the police department?”

Connor glances at Jason. “What would you like to know?”

“I don't know. You said he was complicated and lonely.”

“He is. But he is an excellent detective. Each of his promotions were well earned and well deserved.”

“I suppose then, that it was very good to work with someone like him, since that was your designation.”

Connor can't disagree. He could have ended up assigned to Detective Reed. “It was certainly an experience to learn from. It could have been much, much worse.”

“That I definitely understand. You know, if it hadn't been for the revolution, I think I would have met the worst of the worst all of the time.” 

It's then that Connor realizes that Jason is a Model HR400, and was bound for the Eden Club or one like it, or for auction to become a private partner for some well-to-do individual to use as they saw fit. “I am relieved that was not the case,” he says, and he means it.

“Me, too. That's why I'm determined to make something of myself—be different than what they meant for me to be.” He meets Connor's gaze, startling blue eyes suddenly hard with determination. “I'm no one's _fucktoy_.”

Connor stops walking, turns to Jason. Meets his eyes. “You will never be,” he says seriously. “You are free to choose, now.” Connor can see why the HR400 was designed for intimacy. Jason's facial features were created based on thousands of hours of research on what humans find attractive on a man's face, from his well-proportioned lips to his clear blue eyes, from his warm tenor voice to the dimple in his left cheek, Jason is one of CyberLife's most lifelike and beautiful inventions. His black hair is tucked under a beanie but flecks of it escape by his ears and the side of his forehead. Connor likes the way his eyes look as he meets them again. “The things that could have been... they do not matter anymore. Do you understand?”

Jason's eyelashes flutter as he looks down, his pale cheeks tinging blue. “I know. I just... am glad you came for us when you did. And I'm glad we didn't really get caught.”

Connor smiles. “I am too. It was not just my doing. Markus and the others all played a role in our freedom.” _And Hank,_ he thinks, but he doesn't say that part out loud.

Jason's expression brightens rather adorably. “Let's go. I want to thank Markus for this, too.” His excitement is contagious, and soon they're practically running across the rooftops, ducking around ventilation and HVAC systems and jumping across the alleyways. They reach the street, which still has minimal traffic. Here things aren't quite so dangerous, but Connor still remains extremely vigilant, observing the area for a while before he makes his way across the street and to the old abandoned church. 

The church is thankfully not empty. It is serving as a secondary base for New Jericho. The detention camp had become the main location, but due to the recent storms, it is more than advisable for them to find a more secure location. Connor is pleased to see a repair station for injured androids, sufficiently stocked with bio-components, tools, and plenty of blue blood. There are several people at the station aiding injured ones with repairs, and several others checking in androids in a sort of makeshift triage. 

There is another area dedicated to essentially being a living space for homeless persons, humans and androids alike. Connor is surprised at the number of humans he sees huddling near fires for warmth or helping in the repair station.

It isn’t like New Jericho, but he understands the feeling of safety that there is here. Here is where Markus gave him his trust, made him one of them.

Jason's eyes dart around, his mouth hanging open and his temple flashing with a rapidly circling yellow as he takes in the space. “Whoa...”

Connor gives himself a moment to take in the space as well, but he is looking for familiar faces. He does see someone he recognizes, and strides confidently over toward the android triage section. “Hello,” he says politely.

“Oh—hello. Connor, right?”

“Yes, that's correct. I am looking for Markus. Can you tell me where he is? I have a very important update for him on behalf of the city council and the police department.”

The woman, a WR400 (more commonly known as Traci) nods, returning to her work as her temple also flashes with a thoughtful yellow. Moments later she says, “Markus will meet you here within an hour if you would like to stay.”

Connor nods. “We will stay and help where needed.”

She nods, relieved.

* * *

_Hank_

* * *

Hank listens to the briefing intently, for a change, taking notes and asking questions. He wants to send Connor the report on what Captain Fowler's plans for getting the city under control are. The commissioner and mayor have debated whether or not to bring back the national guard, but neither of them wants things to become hostile (or, more hostile). 

He's worried, as he always is. Connor can defend himself well, his programming helping him hone tactical instincts that people couldn't even dream of fifty years ago. Still, he is fully aware of the chaos the city has descended into, and his back and shoulders have been uncomfortably tight all day at the idea of him facing that disorder without backup.

During the break, he texts Connor. _Holding up okay?_

The reply is immediate, showing the route he chose to get to Markus as well as his current location. He attaches a note, _making good progress. I have Jason with me. We will arrive at New Jericho’s secondary base in twenty two minutes at our current pace._

Relieved, Hank replies, _stay safe._

_We will, Lieutenant. Please update me with the information you have at your earliest convenience._

_The meeting ends in an hour, and it will take me a bit to type up a report for you. I'm recording the whole thing, though. I can send you the recordings._

_Yes please, Lieutenant. Send them as soon as you can._

Hank decides to continue recording the meeting and then take pictures of his notes. Connor's huge brain (read:: quantum processors) will break down and analyze them a million times faster than he can type.

In another twenty minutes he decides to text Connor again, just in case.

Connor's response is a rather sassy _it would be beneficial for both of us if you focused on the information at hand and left my safety to me, Lieutenant._

_I don't like you out there without backup._

_I have Jason with me, and we will reach New Jericho B in six minutes._ He doesn't respond again, and Hank has to snort at the android's attitude. Connor always was rather irritable when it came to something detracting from his ability to complete a task. Deviant though he may be, now, those things are ingrained into his personality and will not change. Hank shoves his anxiety down and tries to tell himself that he is satisfied that Connor is focused on getting to New Jericho and will do what he has to do to get there safely.

He tunes back in to the briefing.

* * *

_Hank_

* * *

Connor unloads everything on Hank the second he gets home, pacing in front of the couch while he talks, assimilating Markus's conditions with Hank's information and letting him know in advance what all of the conflicts will be. He runs through different solutions, calculating whether they can cause hostility and violence, and whether or not they can be successful.

Hank lets him talk, knowing that Connor will make all of this into a fluid, comprehensive report that will be sitting in his email tomorrow morning. He goes instead to a refrigerator and takes out two brown glass bottles, popping the cap off of one with a  satisfying hiss. He sits back down on the couch and watches Connor rant again.

“...which has an 89% chance of success given that the state is willing to compromise on its identification clauses and—I thought you were going to be finished drinking, Lieutenant.”

“I told you I'm getting help. Quitting doesn't work miraculously overnight.”

Connor takes the second bottle and puts it back in the refrigerator, a scowl on his face. “You aren't helping yourself any.”

“And you aren't telling me why you're _really_ stressed. Would ya mind bringing that back?” Hank points at the refrigerator.

“I'm not going to facilitate your purposeful self—”

“Connor.”

Connor presses his lips shut, waiting.

“What's really bothering you?”

Connor starts pacing again, the LED at his temple circling anxious yellow. “I truly enjoy the police department, Hank. It is what I was made for, investigating and negotiating. I enjoy your command and partnership in the department. I do not want to ruin my standing in the department... or with you... if things can't come to a successful compromise.”

“A lot is riding on this for you,” Hank concludes.

“I... yes.”

“But not our relationship.”

“What?”

“Connor, you... you are a true _friend_ to me. You cared about me when people didn't even know you could care about anything. You saved my life over and over. You earned my trust and you earned my friendship. Right now, I get that with you kind of the go-between between the city and Markus, if you end up officially negotiating between all of us, it will lead to a complicated position for you. We won't always agree on everything, but that is the nature of compromise. I would never keep you from doing this. You know that, don't you?”

“But you career—”

“Was long and full of promotions and decorations. If it ends or doesn't end now doesn't matter if I have you to help me get through.”

Connor finally meets his eyes. “I would never leave you hanging, Lieutenant.”

“Goddammit, Connor. Hank, it's Hank.”

Connor doesn't look away before Hank sees the little smirk playing at his lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, I love Connor and Lieutenant Dad Hank so much that i think i dream about it now.  
> I have issues.
> 
> lemme know what you think and that whole bit. spell check me please, and kudos me if you want more. y'all rock
> 
> <3Daisy


	4. something new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Connor doesn't know what 'hitting on you' means.  
> 2\. Markus forgives Connor (and probably loves him)  
> 3\. Hank is fully within his right as surrogate dad to threaten to shoot Markus's android balls off.  
> 4\. But in the end, he's cool about it. Also, Connor loves his dad.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

Connor is easily conceded the position of liaison between Markus, the Police Department, the State, and CyberLife. He is uniquely qualified given his past investigative and negotiation assignments, his long resume of successful missions speaking for him to the police and the state. Markus also accepts because of his role in the freeing of androids in the revolution, and CyberLife... well, they are not really in a position to argue much.

Connor organizes his time by giving himself an order of tasks for each day. 

_0600-0700 Directive: walk Sumo_

_0700-0800 Directive: Review previous day's updates on the registry of names._

_0800-0900 Directive:  Bring Hank the reports for the cleaning operation. Subdrective: Make sure Hank's breakfast is appropriate._

_0900-1230 Directive: Meet with the Michigan State Android Rights Committee_

_1300-1400 Directive: Meet with Detroit Police Android Task Force_

_1400-1600 Directive: Talk to Markus_

_1630-1730 Directive: Meet with Jason_

_1730-1800 Directive: Prepare a well-balanced dinner for Hank_

_1800-1900 Directive: walk Sumo_

_1900-2100  All Directives Suspended: Dinner and movies with Hank_

_2100-0200 Directive: aid in the nightly city clean up operation_

_0200-0600  All Directives Suspended: self diagnostic, repair and debug stasis_

His weekends are different, since he has no negotiations or meetings to attend. He spends most of his time with Hank, cleaning the house or reviewing his cases. Twice, his observations lead to the apprehension of a suspect, and once to the release of one. 

One weekend in January and two months to the date after the revolution, “I miss ya as my partner, believe it or not,” Hank says one day while they look over a case file together. 

“What ever happened to 'stay out of my way' and 'hey—hey, HEY STOP! HOLY SHIT, stop putting evidence in your mouth!'? I am starting to miss your yelling as well.” He likes the way Hank's face crumples into a scowl when he uses a previously recorded soundbite to perfectly imitate Hank's voice.

Flustered, Hank sputters, “Well, I still think the second part is disturbing.”

“I apologize,” Connor says sincerely, “but my ability to analyze blood evidence in real time was indispensable in our investigations of android crimes.”

“I know, I know, it's still—gross! I mean, you _taste_ blood to analyze it.”

Connor smiles a little bit. “I do not taste in the same manner that humans do, I am sure you know. Humans taste for flavors and textures, but... well, androids like myself are analyzing chemical components, genetic identifying markers, and anomalies within those things.”

“So you don't know what it tastes like?”

“Not really.”

Somehow, Hank seems mollified by this, but now Connor is confused. “Have... have you tasted blood before?”

Hank snorts. “My own, by accident.”

“What sort of accident would allow you to taste your own blood?” Connor looks like he wants to scan him for illness or injury again.

“Anything that would end with me splitting a lip, loosing a tooth, splitting my cheek... I don't know. In case you haven't noticed, I get drunk a lot.”

Connor lets out another snort. “I had not.”

“Sarcasm. That's new.”

Connor just smiles, the way his lips pull up a little bit wicked. “Focus on your case, Lieutenant.”

The case was disturbing. Several androids were found dismembered and burned in various homicides, each of the dump sites littered with bio-components and anti-android symbols drawn in blue-blood, including one symbol that repeated itself in each crime scene. It was a trend that had been escalating over the months: first, Androids were reporting being harassed in the street, then they'd be assaulted and beaten or robbed. Now, they were dying in the street, brutally murdered by some unknown suspects. It made Connor want to work harder for a solution, and he spent more and more time in New Jericho as the weeks passed.

On the first weekend in March, Markus starts to join Connor in his morning and evening walks with Sumo, who is leery of him at first. He's warmed up to the other android considerably since, and now greets Markus with happy, playful nips to his fingers, his thick tongue leaving slobber between them  as he licks the man happily. They build their friendship leisurely, walking in the snow and watching the sun attempt to break through the clouds. Their breaths don't frost in the air like a human's but they still enjoy the cold air against their faces. They enjoy being _alive._

Hank always looks at Markus sideways now, but he doesn't really treat him any differently. Connor asks him about it one night.

“You're clueless sometimes, Con.”

“I honestly am right now.”

“Markus, who lead an android revolution and helped you find your deviance, now comes to your house at six in the morning to walk the dog with you. You don't find that to be a little bit...?”

“A little bit what?”

“Strange? Domestic? A little bit of extra work, or out of his way? Take your pick,” he ends sourly.

Connor shrugs, honestly confused. He stands and makes more popcorn for their movie, leaving Hank to stew in his sudden mood.

His mood only gets worse after a few days when Markus takes up the habit of touching Connor's chin with his thumb before he leaves, brushing gently over his jaw only once before dropping his hand. Connor doesn't know why, so of course, he asks Hank who snorts and says, “You don't have a social protocol thingy for when someone's hitting on you? Maybe it got corrupted.”

Connor considers this, and decides to run another diagnostic on his social protocols. He also runs a query on what the term ' _hitting on you_ ' means.

* * *

  _Markus_

* * *

Connor has successfully come up with a solution that the state of Michigan has agreed to. The androids will be required to register a last name, and their serial numbers will serve as their social security identifications, thus giving androids the same guarantees, rights and responsibilities, and financial freedoms associated with a social security number for humans in the United States. If the legislation goes through, the law would make world history and would be the legal step to give androids legal personhood and equal rights.

Meeting with Markus about the legislation is somehow more nerve-wracking now than it was in previous meetings, probably because of how his face lights up when he sees Connor. Connor finds himself acting oddly shy around the leader, but when he searches his social protocols, he can't come up with a reason why.

He both likes and loathes the sensation.

Markus greets him with a warm embrace and a smile that Connor can only describe as beautiful. Josh, still leery of the RK800 simply waves with a small smile. North squeezes his hand, but there is something false in her expression that makes Connor uncomfortable.

They go over each element of the agreement in detail. Connor lets himself slip into his negotiation programming, which has had to grow and adapt to negotiating for both sides. He enjoys the challenge, his mind feeling stress free at the use of his originally programmed skills. Deviant (or alive) though they may be, there is comfort for androids in going back to what they know. It is the same way for humans.

Connor makes himself a reminder to analyze the concepts of comfort and anxiety later on. 

Hank had congratulated him on a job well done and asked him to help the police department with securing abandoned homes and buildings until he can find out what will be happening next with the negotiations.

Connor taps Jason's clean up operation, asking him and North to organize the androids for their housing assignments and helping them clean up the areas they are leaving behind. Jason, who had been following Markus around like a lost puppy, jumped at the chance to be a team leader on any of his projects. He works with North constantly, and the group is always amused at how he hangs on Markus’s every word, and defends him aggressively to anyone who could have a negative word for the man. Markus indulges him constantly, praising his work in their meetings and inviting him to hang out with the group when they have down time.

The city is changing before their very eyes, and Connor relishes the excitement that makes the winter air around them less biting.

Markus finally agrees to the document as it is. He broadcasts the results of the agreement to the androids in New Jericho with his internal speech processes, and they cheer excitedly at the news. Connor resigns himself to an appearance before Congress, but he allows himself a moment of excitement, too. _They will see me as I am,_ he thinks. He feels calm at the idea, but at the same time, he feels terrified.

Markus finds him finishing his final notes on the meeting and sits across from him. “Thank you,” He says quietly.

Connor shakes his head. “There is nothing to thank me for, Markus.”

“You're wrong. You have done more for this revolution than anyone could have asked for.”

Connor's vocal module seems to be malfunctioning, so he checks it, but there are no errors. He doesn't understand why it feels so... _tight._ He can't recall anything that could have lodged in his throat—

Markus moves, sitting next to Connor instead. Connor blinks, confused. “I... No one asked me, no one had to ask. I just want...” His eyes are two different colors, he realizes. One is gray-green, earthy and warm, and the other is aqua blue, icy calm and thoughtful. _I want you to be okay._

His LED flickers. Yellow circle. Red half circle. Yellow circle. And another.

“Connor?”

“It is the least I can do,” Connor whispers. He picks up his notes as quickly as he can, trying to escape through the only door. 

Markus grabs his wrist, stopping him. “Wait, hold on. What does that mean?”

Connor whirls around, his notes scattering on the ground. “Hank says that you keep touching my face because you are 'hitting on me'. I am not certain how that phrase came about, but it seems to imply that you want a relationship with me... of a romantic nature—or a sexual one.”

Markus's eyes widen, but then he shrugs. “Or both?”

Connor's LED flickers again. Yellow half-circle. White—red—yellow—red—RED... “You... Should not want to be with me,” he whispers. “I strongly advise against it.”

Markus's face falls. “Why?” he asks. He sounds numb—which is really how androids should sound since they are robots after all, according to some humans anyway—but somehow they always sound so warm. The emotionless chill in his voice makes Connor's synthetic skin crawl.

“I am... not entirely sure it is safe.”

Markus is frowning now. “Why wouldn't it be?” He takes a cautious step forward, his hand outstretched as a warning: _Please don't be alarmed. I'm coming close to you now._

“You—you do not understand. I tried to kill you—I was supposed to bring you in, dead or alive.”

Markus visibly relaxes. “W-well, yes, but that was just...”

“There were so many androids... so many of them that just wanted their humans to _stop_ hurting them, and I—every one of them that I met died.” Connor's LED is solid red now, and Markus can see the vacant look in his glassy brown eyes from this distance. He steps closer to Connor, who is lost in his panicked reverie. “D-Daniel... I lied to him so that he would not kill that human girl. And R-Rupert, and—they are all dead because of me, and you would be too. I do not believe you should trust me, and I do not want you to!” Connor jerks back, flattening himself against the wall. He is glad he gave his weapons to Josh this time. His LED spins in anxious red circles on his temple.

Markus stops his advance. “Connor—those things happened only because you weren't aware. I know you didn't understand, and no one blames you for those deaths, or for attempting to apprehend me. And Connor, no one blames you for _saving_ a little girl. We don't blame you for your past.”

“Josh does,” he whispers. “I do, too.” Connor looks up. “And I was aware. I—I knew that you were—are—alive, and that did not stop me.”

“What do you mean?” Markus asks curiously.

Connor slumps down the wall, his entire story tumbling out of his memory and past his lips without him truly processing what he is saying. He tells Markus about the two Tracis in the Eden Club, and about how the deviant on the roof was still joined to his memory when he shot himself—that was the first time he ever felt pure, unadulterated terror—and about meeting Kamski and being unable to shoot Chloe. He tells Markus that he has probably been deviant a long time, if the parameters for deviance were limited to the ability to feel genuine emotion. He tells Markus finally, between tears of desperation, how every time something happened where he could capture or terminate a deviant, _Amanda_ would be there in his head to tell him how good a job he did, and how he needed to keep going, that time was running out to finish the investigation. He tells Markus that she was there the night they won the revolution, telling him that he did great again.

“She... said I was _supposed_ to be deviant, and that she will always be there to take over my program again and—” Connor buries his face in his hands. “And—when I finally escaped her, I realized that my gun was in my hand and it was... it was _pointing at you._ ” He shudders. “Do you understand? I am unreliable. At any moment I may find out that my escape failed and she will be there to control me again. _You will die!_ I never want that to happen to you—I could never forgive myself you were hurt because of me. Please, if you value your own life and the success of the revolution, you... you should stay away. I could kill you—I... _I already tried._ ” 

Markus is stunned by the confession, but not entirely surprised. He has a prototype mind palace too, although his doesn't have an AI living in it. He imagines that the revolution might not be so successful if he did. 

He kneels in front of Connor, gently locking his fingers around the RK800's wrists and pulls his hands away from his face. With a sincere smile, he says, “thank you.”

Connor blinks, and Markus can almost see the query and error messages flashing in Connor's vision. “W-what?”

“You... you fought your programming to keep me alive. You have no idea what that means to me.” He lets go of Connor's wrist to wipe the wetness away from his face. “We _are_ alive, and _you_ are proof. And _I'm_ alive because of _you._ Of course... Of course I have to say thank you. I can see now that what happened scarred you. I can't imagine constantly being afraid of an entity inside my own mind, and I can’t imagine the horrible guilt you must carry with you all the time. But don't you see, Connor? In the end, you let those women live. In the end, you did see that the deaths of those androids would have been wrong, and you _stopped_ it. You are here, among our trusted friends, because you value your life and the lives of others. Connor, I can’t say what Amanda has told you to make you believe you’re undeserving, to make you believe you should be afraid, but she was lying to you. She is _gone_ now, Connor. By living in that fear, you _are_ letting her control you. She now decides your future and your happiness, and not because you weren't able to escape. _You know she is gone._ She only controls you now because you are afraid of your own capabilities, of your own strengths and weaknesses. _Don't be._ Who you are, Connor, is beautiful.”

Connor stares at him like he's never seen another android before in his life. “I... am not sure I understand.” Connor understands. He just hadn't analyzed this situation in that light before. The ideas are almost too big for his processors.

“Okay, well then understand this: I don't blame you. I trust you. And I'm yours if you want me. After everything you have had to fight through, this is the least _I_ can do.”

Connor's eyes water again. Markus pulls him gently to his feet, encasing him in another warm embrace. Connor decides he likes hugs. He pulls back to smile at Markus, to tell him that he understands, that he's _grateful_ for the trust. Markus smiles back, and then presses their lips together. It's gentle, barely a whisper, warm skin and warm puffs of air.

Connor doesn't know what to do. His lips are still slightly open, in the middle of forming a word, and he can feel the way Markus's lips seal against the top lip, and then the bottom, each momentarily enveloped in warmth and softness. Just as soon as the kiss began, it's ending. He didn't even have time to search for an appropriate response! Connor realizes he doesn't want it to end. His body is already reacting to the end of the kiss, chasing after Markus's mouth before he can pull to far away. He's comfortable in Markus's embrace. He's elated when their lips meet so fleetingly.

Markus swipes his jaw with his thumb again, his eyes sparkling.

* * *

_Hank_

* * *

 

In the evening, Markus greets him at the door with another happy, fleeting kiss. It lingers just long enough for Connor to want to explore this more, but it's over before he can process it. Markus stares at him like he is a work of art. Connor feels oddly warm under his calm gaze. He decides that elation is a very good emotion, and if nothing else, he will attempt to allow Markus the same sensation. He leans into Markus, brushes his lips over his again. Markus's eyes fall closed for just a moment, and then his thumb is insistently caressing Connor's jaw again. His expression tells Connor that he succeeded in his mission, and he smiles brightly.

Hank takes one look at the two of them and then says, “Connor, you're walking the dog on your own today.”

Confused, Connor turns to the older man. “What? But Hank—”

“Markus, you're with me. Don't argue.”

Markus shrugs. “Sure. I'll catch up with you,” he says, his thumb gently rubbing his jaw again. 

Connor notices that the rest of his fingers are neatly pressed on his neck and under his ear. He decides he likes the sensation. He nods, casting a nervous glance at Hank who is still expressionless, and then takes Sumo's leash and doggy bags before walking him outside. 

The second the door closes, Hank's face falls into an expression that Markus can only describe as threatening. “Not too long ago, he didn’t even know what it meant that you kept touching his face. Now you’re all kissy. Why?”

“I suppose… I suppose he understands now.”

“Does he?” Hank drawls. 

“We had a discussion, and things are clear now. He knows where I stand, and what I want.”

In the next second, Hank’s off-duty revolver is in his hand and he's shoving the android into the wall by his jacket. He presses the barrel of the gun right over the red circle flickering vigorously. “I'm not going to kill you right now only because Connor would be severely disappointed. He likes this… where you stand… bit. A lot. So let me be clear.”

Markus feels the odd urge to swallow, so he does. It doesn't help.

“If he comes home hurt because of you, I’m going to put a bullet in your skull. You hear? Tears, blood, even an angry face. A hair missing off his head. A glitch. I don't care. I _will_ fucking end you.”

Markus sighs, his LED turning thoughtful yellow and then blue. “I understand, Lieutenant. I don't want to cause Connor any harm. I swear on my own life.”

“I hope for your sake that you're right. There won't be enough blue blood or bio-components or _whatever the fuck_ on earth to save you otherwise.” He releases the android's shirt, and he calmly fixes it before walking outside, shutting the front door gently behind him.

He stays for dinner, though.

* * *

 

_Connor_

* * *

Oddly enough, after that conversation (or one-sided discussion which began and ended with Markus fearing for his safety) Hank is relaxed and calm when Markus comes around. Connor often sits between them while they watch movies, his body curled against Markus, his head neatly tucked on Markus's shoulder or his feet in his lap. Markus pets Connor the way Connor pets Sumo, and he's equally pleased with the affection and confused at how he should feel about this. He decides that he loves it when markus touches him, and that the rest doesn’t matter.

For his part, Markus just loves to watch Connor. He's horrified at first by any violence, but Hank and Connor explain that the scenes are falsified for entertainment, and no humans actually die or are harmed in the making of movies.

Markus thinks they should make that a disclaimer in the end credits. He says so out loud, and Hank snorts, and Connor shrugs. “Maybe so. But you are not assessing the risks of death to humans for entertainment when you are watching my face instead of the film.”

Markus just shrugs, and Hank snorts again.

He stays for dinner almost every day after walking Sumo with Connor, and their discussions are full of laughter and confusion—the latter mostly on Connor's part. Hank teases Connor often, flustering him to the point where even Markus has to laugh. Connor gives as good as he gets, though, his pre-programmed dad-jokes and dry sarcasm causing Hank to be stuck in a constant state of glaring while guffawing. Markus has made it a point to not be mean to anyone, even if it's just a joke, so he decides to be the one to keep the topics coming and leave the teasing to the dynamic duo.

Tonight they're at the dinner table discussing the progress of Androids registering a last name. Markus sentimentally informed them that Carl asked him to take Manfred as a last name, telling them about the time that Carl told him he views the android as his son and how much it meant to him.

Hank smiles at this, reaching over and ruffling Connor's hair. “I know exactly what Carl means,” he says.

Connor smiles brightly at Hank, who pulls him into a tight hug. He decides, not for the first time, that he really likes Hank’s hugs.

**_._ **

****


	5. new emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Markus and Connor are getting ready... and getting closer. Connor discovers a new emotion, and it is not. fun.  
> 2\. Connor has a chat with North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick little side note, if you haven't noticed yet, I'm not naming each section by point of view, but by the way each section is summarized in the chapter summary.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

Days turn into weeks. It is finally getting warm again, and even though Hank feels like a third wheel, he joins Markus and Connor for Sumo's hour long morning walks. Connor appreciates his attempts to exercise, and starts bringing home donuts once a week for breakfast. 

With the Congressional Android Rights Hearings finally scheduled for May 16-20, Markus, North, Jason, Josh, and Connor focus their full energy into preparing for the meetings. There are highly specialized lawyers and civil rights activists (human allies that support the android’s cause and have experience in dealing with equal rights activism) that help them prepare their testimonies: North focusing on how android abuse has affected their people, Markus and Josh throwing himself into the task of garnering public opinion, and Jason rapidly becoming a rising star in dealing with the city’s public assistance programs for Androids, including helping with housing, Android well-being, and reporting all of his progress to Markus. 

Connor, analyst to his very core, is focused on compiling data and statistics to support Markus and North's arguments as well as analyze solutions to concerns of the public, such as economic growth and unemployment, the integration of android children, and what this all could mean for the military.

On this issue, Markus will have to compromise some. The country's military is cannot be too severely decimated, and with the world watching, Markus is pushing for android soldiers to be treated the same as humans, including being able to choose their specialties, being provided with living quarters on base, equal pay, and the like, but more importantly, he wants this only for those that have chosen to return to their work. He doesn't want those that left the army to be punished or forced to return, but Connor knows that may not be the case.

Equal rights means equal punishment too. No one has to like it, but there is a high probability that they will have to accept it in order to make progress with the negotiation. If by the end of the summit they are able to draft a bill satisfactory to everyone, each state will vote on it as an amendment to the constitution, thus making the rights of androids permanent and enforceable with state laws. It wouldn't be a small price to pay, but Markus's mission is to free his people, and Connor wants to facilitate this with the best chances of success.

Markus is taken aback with how he thinks about things so analytically, so _coldly._

“You're as alive as they are, Connor, they deserve the right to choose without consequences.”

“The whole country is not like Carl Manfred and Hank Anderson. They do not always understand. They do not always form an attachment. We will have to make bigger sacrifices in order to achieve the total freedom for androids. You were willing to sacrifice the lives of those that stood by you during the revolution. What makes this different?”

Markus scowls. “The difference is that the deviants that stood with me chose to. I never forced them to stay. But our soldiers... those people will not have a choice in their own future.”

Connor thinks about this for a while, his LED turning in thoughtful yellow circles.

“Why did you never take out your LED?”

Connor smiles up at Markus from where he's seated, still compiling his data and analyses. “I am an android,” he says simply. “I do not want to be a human. I am quite happy being myself. I realize that humankind created us—created _me—_ but in the end I have realized that becoming free is not the same as becoming human. Humans may eventually accept equality. But they will never accept me as one of them.”

Markus thinks about this for a while too before he says, “do you think we've been going about this all wrong?”

Connor looks up at him and winks. “You should know me well enough by now that I have prepared presentations for both trains of thought.”

“No wonder you work so hard.”

“I was designed to be analytical and tactical, and one of my primary skills is negotiation. I enjoy using my ability for our own people instead of against them. I am preparing for everything that I can, and I will do the same for you, Josh and North. I understand that you might not like some of the negative outcomes I will prepare you for, but we should prepare for them all the same, as preparation is our best guarantee for success.”

“You're right. I just... there's something inherently wrong with sending out soldiers against their will. And with international tensions so high...”

Connor realizes they are talking about the high probability of war with Russia. “You feel as if they will be sent to the slaughter.”

Markus nods miserably.

“I can attempt to persuade the release of Android soldiers without punishment. I should warn you that the chances of success are approximately 38 percent, and the chances of it impacting our overall success negatively is a relatively high 52 percent, based on the statistics that I have analyzed.”

Markus growls. “It's not fair.”

“Nor is it right, I suppose. But we are very low on options. Perhaps you should speak to them yourself about this issue. Let them understand that freedom is something that is continually fought for and bought with blood in this country. Humans consider it an honor, did you know?”

Markus smiles thoughtfully. “Yes, I know. But they choose it.”

“And you will have to give them the choice too: fight in the military and save our people, or choose to stay, and risk our failure.”

Markus sighs heavily. “You're right. I don't like this at all.”

“There is one issue that we will have to discuss that you also may not like.”

“Oh?”

“The production of new androids and android parts. The truth is, especially if we do not have a choice but to send our men back to the military, we will have to desist on laws forbidding the production of new androids.”

“What if we only allow specialized models? Those that serve in the military will have to be given proper care, and the military may continue to require our help even after our kind die.”

“What would qualify as specialized models? We could allow military and police production, but the rest of us still need parts, and the vast majority were originally were for commercial use. Also, consider that our kind may consider this a discrimination.”

Markus sighs. “You're right.”

“I will insist that CyberLife cease production of HR400 and WR400 androids. If we are given legal personhood, the concept of consent and violation of sexual boundaries _will_ apply to android kind. We cannot tolerate being used like this again, Markus. Humans can be...” Connor shudders as he thinks of the two Tracis in the Eden Club, the one he'd found next to the human body _mangled_ and afraid. “Humans can be evil.”

Markus nods. “I agree. As for others, such as caretakers? And what would that mean for sales? CyberLife is a private company after all—they do reserve their right to turn a profit.”

“We are highly likely to run into several legal problems prohibiting the sale of androids. However, I do not believe that this is an issue we should back down from. We should not be merchandise for sale. However, I have devised a solution to this. Humans or other androids can request the production of an android model, which CyberLife can produce. They will pay for the production cost, but they will not pay for the release of the android once he or she is given their full faculties. Likewise, a human or android can request parts or large quantities Thirium, and can pay for a program similar to health insurance in order to request those.”

“Makes sense.”

“I believe that, if well managed, this can also create job access and opportunities for both humans and androids. There are still many downfalls to this that I have to work through, however. Coming up with a completely comprehensive solution will take me some time.” Connor leans back in his seat, relaxing his shoulders. “So much has happened since the revolution,” he says.

Markus smiles. “There's still so much more to do.”

“Do you ever think about what will happen after all of this ends?”

Markus pulls the other android up from his seat guiding him to the only place in the room big enough for both of them to sit, which is a small loveseat. He sits down, and Connor immediately scoots himself into his lap. Connor has come to crave physical affection the way humans crave their red ice. Markus always obliges him, kissing along his hairline at his temple, wrapping him in a secure embrace, gently massaging his thigh or his arm, pulling his fingers through his hair... no matter what the action is, Markus loves touching him as much as he loves to be touched.

“Do you?”

“I want... if they would still have me, I want to work for the Detroit Police Department again. Out of all the missions I have had, the ones I've had with them have been the most fulfilling.” He doesn’t mention that being in the DPD taught him that he could and should always try to take his suspects alive, but he doesn’t have to. Markus can see him thinking about his time there when they interface.

After a moment of shared thought and silence, Markus shrugs. “Hmm. I suppose I haven't thought so much about it.”

“Lots of us are fighting to be free, but not all of us are thinking about what to do with our newfound freedom.”

“Well, I know one thing.”

“What's that?”

“I want to keep enjoying all the moments I have with you.”

Connor laughs into his shirt, feeling adored. “Hopefully once all of this is over, we won't have to keep stealing these moments.”

It's true. Now that they're in full Congress mode, they've spent the better part of each day in none-stop meetings. Markus works with Hank to ensure peaceful demonstrations and security with the police department. He also meets with the lawyers and activists. Connor works almost twenty hours a day and now pays another android to walk Sumo even though he spends most of his time at his desk at home. 

His schedule and Markus's rarely coincide unless they are scheduled to meet _with each other_ , and so they instead steal moments; Connor stops by the station for a few seconds, long enough to kiss Markus and drop off lunch for Hank. Markus finds him in between meetings for a stolen cuddle or kiss. Hank makes sure they leave all their damn meetings with enough time to run their stasis for at least a couple of hours each day and checks up on Carl and his new caretaker for Markus. Sometimes they schedule their meetings in Hank's house so that they'll be able to spend even a few moments together after their meetings.

They're both exhausted, or at least the Android equivalent. Still, they are managing fleeting moments to grow together. For Connor that means getting as much hands-on time as possible. For Markus that means communicating. Curling up on Connor's bed to talk is the best compromise. 

“Hopefully, once this is all over, others will have to steal _our_ moments instead of vice versa.”

Connor chuckles again. Laughing is new to him, in a way that it wasn't only a few months before. Before, laughter was forced, a programmed reaction in his social protocols; someone made a funny, Connor should laugh. Now he laughs for genuine joy, for jokes, for the way Markus's eyes sparkle when he does. He laughs at Sumo's shenanigans, he laughs at inappropriate times. _He loves to laugh._ It makes him _happy_.

“Hopefully they know better.”

Markus's turn to laugh. “They should know better than to mess with the great Connor, police detective and tactical/defensive genius.”

“They should. If only they knew all the places I hid weapons in Carl's home.”

Markus gapes. “ _What?!”_

Connor presses his lips shut. “I could not help it,” he says. “I worry about him and Oliver. You would be severely distracted if something happened while they were alone and defenseless. I have given Oliver all of my tactical and defense knowledge and shown him where all the weapons are hidden. He also runs some of my favorite calibration exercises, although he was not designed with the same abilities I was programmed with, his reaction time and resourcefulness are already a defensive asset for Carl.”

“I—don't know if I should thank you or be angry.”

“North has also agreed to visit them when you are unable. Your home is important to you, and I feel it is important to protect it by any means necessary. Carl is... he is your _Hank._ You need him, and he needs protection as well as help.”

Markus sighs. “I'm not entirely happy about this, but thank you for the concern. I will... it will help my worry, I’m sure.”

“Anything,” Connor says, pressing his lips to Markus's cheek. Then he frowns. “I have... one more thing to mention. About North.”

Markus sighs. “I know that you two... are kind of awkward around each other.”

“She does not like me. In fact, she probably reviles my very existence.” Connor's shoulders sag. “I could never blame her. Why should she trust me after everything I have done?”

Markus loves his adorable, clueless boyfriend. “It has nothing to do with trust, Connor, or even your past. It has everything to do with _jealousy._ ”

Jealousy is a very foreign emotion to Connor. In fact, he doesn't think he has felt such a thing before. He know humans feel it often—there was an occasion in Markus's memory that left him in a fit of giggles for days. He'd been rallying androids for one of their first marches—at the shopping center, actually—when he walked by two humans where were in an argument because the man “slipped and both hands landed on her tits?” but he'd never felt anything like that with Markus. Markus doesn't show romantic interest in anyone other than Connor. He treats his friends and his followers warmly and with respect, but he never touches them like he touches _him._ It makes him feel warm, not jealous.

“Does North love you like I do?”

Markus's throat bobs, and he pulls back to look at Connor, his expression equal parts awed, adoring and amused. “Oh, is that what it is?”

Connor nods, his head tilting in confusion. “Of course. I would choose you over any romantic partner, android or human. I trust you and we communicate well. You are my friend, but you are so much more. I enjoy the feelings I have when I am with you, but I enjoy the process of maintaining our relationship in spite of recent difficulties with our schedules. I look forward to every moment with you, and I find enjoyment in challenging myself to find new ways to please you, protect you, and support you. Is that not what love is?”

Speechless, Markus simply lowers his lips to Connor's, kissing him deeply.

When the kiss breaks, Connor looks more than a little bit dazed. But then he smiles brilliantly, his Thirium Pump Distributor behaving erratically and generating an error message that Connor has to clear constantly.

“I love you too,” Markus whispers. “Very much.”

Connor allows himself to bask in this moment for just a second, closing his eyes and reveling in Markus's arms and his lips. Then he sits up again. “But you never answered my question.”

Markus laughs, pressing his lips against Connor's temple. “Maybe,” he finally acquiesces against Connor’s LED. The puffs of air as he speaks make Connor shiver. “Based on your description, I don't believe so. In fact, I believe that she wants me to love her.”

Connor frowns at this. He understands jealousy now, and he hates it.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

 

It’s at the end of another meeting, and Connor picks up his things quickly, getting ready to go to his desk and transfer his notes to the brand new New Jericho closed network server so that all of New Jericho’s leaders can access it before heading home.

North pulls Markus aside and gives some additional comments, her hands moving throught the air animatedly as she talks before one hand lands on his bicep, pulling herself far past the limits of his personal space. Markus smiles and nods, casually taking her hand off his arm and squeezing it. He pats her shoulder once, twice, and then excuses himself, ducking out of the conference room and into his room without speaking to anyone else.

Connor glares so hard that he figures the human idiom “if looks could kill” applies in this instance. However, he doesn’t want to kill Markus. At the same time, his hasty exit made clear how uncomfortable he was with the attention, and that makes him furious. Jealousy is his constant companion now. Markus hasn’t changed with him at all, but it makes him unreasonably upset when North grips his arm, or laughs at any of his remarks, or _invades his personal space_. 

Whenever North is around, Connor’s mood always turns sour.

He tells Hank about this severe irritation with North, and Hank unhelpfully bursts into a fit of laughter that makes him scowl and turn to stomp into the kitchen.

“Hey, hey wait,” Hank chuckles, still finding all of this funny but feeling bad for flustering Connor. “I’m sorry, don’t leave. It’s just funny hearing you describe this, that’s all.”

“What is funny about that woman trying to get Markus to notice her?”

“The fact that he only has eyes for you, kid. He’d lose his eyes otherwise.”

“I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped threatening his life, or his components,” Connor says testily. He crosses his arms but doesn’t sit back down on the couch.

“He knows we’re good kid, calm down.”

Connor huffs. “I am not fond of this feeling,” he finally mutters. “She wants Markus for herself, and why would she not? He is kind and special, the _leader of the android revolution,_ and smart and handsome.”

“You done singin’ his praises, kid?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, yeah he’s all of that. But whatever makes him special to _you_ is why he is with you. That connection isn’t something he has with anyone else. You’re worried for no reason.”

“I suppose that is the very nature of jealousy.” Connor sags on to the couch. “I am with him because he offered me his forgiveness, love, and respect when I did not deserve any. He gives so freely to me. Why should he not give freely to her or anyone else?”

“Don’t you think he would have? I mean, according to the story, North was the leader of Jericho before him. They planned this whole revolution without you, Connor, they went through near-death experiences together, they fought side by side. If _that_ didn’t get him to fall for her, then I have no clue what the fuck would. But you? He sees something in _you_ that he clearly hasn’t seen in her or anyone else.”

Connor thinks about that long after Hank as gone to sleep for the night. It settles him some, but he feels a bit like he is standing on a wood raft that is coming apart in the middle of the ocean. Disturbed by his drifting, out of control emotions, he can’t get himself to drop into stasis normally.

He pulls on his hoodie and calls a cab back to New Jericho before he’s really thought through what he’s doing. He goes to Markus’s room and knocks, and Markus answers almost immediately. _Connor? I thought you went home. You work too much._ Even as he’s chastising Connor for being a workaholic (“I believe there is an expression that humans use about pots calling kettles black, Markus”)he is wrapping Connor in a tight embrace and kissing him deeply. 

_I went home, but I was… restless._ He holds up his hand for Markus, who presses his palm against it. His gentle smile turns amused as Connor replays his conversation with Hank, and the memory that caused that conversation to begin with.

_The willingness to change, to adapt you beliefs and actions,_ Markus says eventually. _The ability to embrace that deviance is constant._

_What?_

_Lieutenant Anderson is correct in that there is something in you I have never seen in her. Since I met her, she has had a bitterness about her past, and towards the humans that forced it on her. I don’t blame her… what she’s told me is so vile it still makes me shudder. But her vision for Jericho before I arrived was non-existent. They were just surviving, making the best of a dark, perpetual night not even knowing that they were the ones that could change it for the better. And then, when we started planning for this revolution, again, her vision was short sighted, small. I wanted to bring about a new day. She wanted vengence for the past. I wanted peace. She wanted anger to be justified and retaliated against. She still doesn’t understand that those desires are what keep that perpetual night with us, and she has no desire to embrace the possibility that this can be a new age for us without disrupting the laws of our land or starting a war._

_You have been so different. Since I’ve known you you have been driven and determined, but I could see that you wanted,_ needed, _more from your life. Connor, your desperation for change is what drew me to you. You took on the entire world and your own programming because you wanted to change, and you still want to fight for our progress, and our peace. To that end I see how you constantly improve yourself, attempt to learn and to teach, to be the essential part of this leadership that we need here. Your bravery and strength are what makes me love you._

Connor fully snuggles himself into Markus’s chest, his whole body relaxing in his arms. His eyes flutter closed, and he breathes. _I am glad that I did._

The morning finds them sound asleep on Markus’s unnecessarily large bed, tangled together and breathing softly against each other’s skin. Connor wakes up first, untangles himself quietly from Markus and pads out of the room with the intention of gathering his things and going home to walk Sumo, but he freezes in the office when he finds North at her desk, tapping a pen to her lips in an incredibly _human_ gesture.

“You’re staying the night now?” she asks, not lifting her eyes from her computer.

Connor wants to snap _none of your damn business,_ but decides it would be too rude. He says nothing.

_What?_ North asks a moment later when he lets out an irritated huff.

Connor grits his teeth, but decides to be direct. _I am not particularly fond of your treatment of Markus._

Genuinely startled, North asks, _what do you mean? I’ve never treated him badly, I—_

_Precisely,_ Connor growls. _Just… keep your hands to yourself. It is considered extremely disrespectful and inconsiderate to constantly flirt with someone in a relationship._

North’s expression drops. _You don’t understand, do you?_

_As a matter of fact, I do._ Connor sinks into his seat too. _I know that he is someone worth fighting for._

_Markus was my friend first. I loved him first._

_I am not sure how much that means in the grand scheme of things, but I will tell you that I understand your frustration. I know it would be difficult for me if the situation were reversed. But… please, if you have truly loved him like you said, refrain from disrespecting him again. He is not like the men you used to know._

North scowls at her computer. _I am well aware._

But she keeps her hands to herself after that.

 


	6. forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. in the midst of Hank says goodbye to his son, but has gained a new one.  
> 2\. Connor worries about his boyfriend, who appreciates it very much.  
> 3\. North gets unexpected support and advice from Lieutenant Dad.

* * *

_Hank_

* * *

Markus has proposed that there be an all-android committee in charge of the production of Androids. The logistics of that are quickly written out and discussed. It seems like the best solution to most of their moral objections to android production. Connor also thinks that, for military, police and EMS/fire models, that their memories be uploaded and transferred like his own upon their deaths. This is something Markus says they can discuss once there is a committee to discuss it with, and Connor agrees.

Jason presents his clean up operation progress, and he and North present their progress with housing in the city. Out of the almost three million androids that are free in the state, about six hundred thousand are free in Detroit.

The initial wave of Deviancy, ending with Connor’s conversion of every android stored in the Cyberlife Tower’s warehouse, had awoken approximately twenty-five thousand Androids. Now the total is more than 90% of the poulation of Androids in the city, a whopping five hundred and fifty thousand.

Many have chosen to go back to the homes they were living in, their previous families moving back with them. Many others left the city with their human families in the evacuation of the city. Thankfully, deviance hasn’t caused major trouble with those families, and complaints of crime are down in those neighborhoods where Androids have returned to their families. 

Those with public jobs and no homes to speak of are being roomed together, two or three to an apartment in area of downtown full of high rise apartments and neigborhood complexes. In total, they’ve been able to help about 190 thousand  such Androids so far, negotiating rental agreements with the companies that own those properties. By the part of the companies, there isn’t much argument because they figure Androids will probably make better tenants than most humans, so they are agreeable and quickly offer their properties to the Android Housing Project.

Construction has begun in several districts filled with abandoned homes, lots, and apartments. Renovation of abandoned or foreclosed homes happens quickly, and soon many of those homes are put up for sale. 

One of those is near the Police Department Headquarters, and so Hank quickly puts in an offer. It’s a two-story home with four bedrooms, finished basement, and other brand new appliances and decor, since it was so recently renovated. He decides to sell his old house to the AHP. He also promises to lease bedrooms to Jason and North, who have become like brother and sister as they’ve worked together, much to Connor’s delight.

The houses’ sales probably won’t be finalized and ready to move into until mid summer because of the trip to DC and other things, but Hank has already begun packing up his things. Connor dutifully helps whenever he can, and he is surprised when he finds that the other bedroom has no bed but is full of a child’s things.

“It’s Cole’s room,” Hank explains quietly. “I donated his bed and all his clothes to shelters but… I couldn’t bring myself to take his room apart.”

“I am so sorry,” Connor whispers.

“I used to think that I deserved it, you know? I wasn’t always a good father. We’d been… I mean, my ex-wife and me, we’d been fighting alot. Cole used to cry when we’d argue. And then I’d run off to drown my sorrows in Jimmy’s and well… one day she had enough of my shit, I guess, and left. She took my kid and just…

“After that, I got my weekends with him, and so I did my best to stay sober while I was with him, you know? Didn’t want him to see his old man slobbering drunk.” He shrugs. “You know how I get. Anyway, after that, I was just… always afraid of losing him. I wanted to be better, you know? I really did try…” He swallows. “But there wasn’t enough time.”

Connor pulls Hank into a hug this time. They don’t say anything for a while until Hank whispers, “If I could have seen him grow up, I like to think he would be like you.”

After that, they quietly and reverently pack Cole’s things. Connor gives Hank the space and time he needs to say goodbye to his little boy. After his room is packed, the _Cars_ decals stripped from the walls, the little ‘town roads’ rug for toy cars rolled up and set aside, Connor silently takes two beers out of the fridge and sets an open one in front of Hank.

Hank takes it and sighs. “Thanks, kid.” 

Connor curls up next to him as they sit, watching tv together. He lets Connor lean against him, not sure if Connor’s the one that needs comfort, or if Connor is trying to comfort him. After a while, it becomes clear when Connor murmurs, “I never knew what having a family is like.”

“Bullshit,” Hank retorts. “You’ve got the Jericho brats.” Connor chuckles at that, and Hank does too. “Yeah. You’ve got me, too. Family isn’t always getting married and having a kid. Sometimes family is just… people that love you. And God help me, I love you to death, kid.”

Connor smiles. “Does that make you like my father, or my grandfather?”

“You little—you little shit!”

Connor laughs as he dodges Hanks’ half-hearted fist. They playfight like Connor is a little kid, and for the first time in a long time, Hank’s heart is full.

In the morning, Connor registers his full name: 

**_RK800, Serial number 313-248-317. Name: Connor Anderson_ **

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

When Markus sees him, he grins so brilliantly that Connor can’t help his returning smile. “I thought you were home today,” Markus says.

“I am, but… I wanted to see you. You know, outside of work. If you are not busy.”

Markus shrugs, sensing Connor’s mood. He probably is in a cuddly mood right now, if Markus is any judge. He happily will oblige. He wraps Connor in a soft embrace, kissing along his cheekuntil Connor melts into him.  “I could use a break,” he murmurs. “But that isn’t the only reason you came here.”

Connor shrugs, admitting defeat.

Markus pulls back and takes his hands instead. “Let’s talk somewhere private.”

That somewhere private ends up being Markus’s office, which is secluded in the New Jericho home base. They’re making out immediately, completely tangled in each other’s limbs and tasting each other like they hadn’t seen each other in months, instead of only hours.

Finally, they break apart, unaware that they actually needed to breath until they realize that they’re panting. “Wow,” Connor says.

“Uh-huh.” Markus’s adorably mismatched eyes are positively gleaming. “Now sit with me and tell me everything.”

“Hank is working a case… it seems involved, and gruesome. I just want you to spread the word.” It’s true. Hank’s case is involves a group of ‘activists’ that are becoming increasingly violent towards Androids. Just last night, an Android woman was found severely injured and barely in an alley with the words “blood is only red” smeared on the walls in her blood. It turned out the woman had recently turned to deviance after seeing one of Markus’s speeches. She shut down before they could get her to a repair center, and they were unable to reboot her. When Connor had seen the photos of the crime scene, he’d had the inexplicable urge to vomit.

“If anyone sees something or feels as they might be targeted, they need to let Hank know.” Connor looks up at his boyfriend. “It is not the first case like this, and… well, the only think linking them is your events. All are deviant, and all are attending at least one of your events.”

Markus’s face is serious now. “Hmm. With our upcoming event in DC…”

“You could be a target, Markus. Anyone from Jericho could.”

Markus frowns. “And you?”

Connor shrugs. “I can handle myself fairly well,” he says with a wink. Then he starts fidgeting… with a coin, Markus realizes. “I am more concerned about you. And Josh, Ellis, Jason, and North. We need… it is vital to keep them safe until those people are caught.”

Markus sighs against him, pressing his lips to Connor’s cheek, trailing kisses back toward his ear. Then he pulls Connor into a tight, trembling embrace. “We’ll be careful,” he promises, his words giving Connor a pleasant chill. “I’ll be careful. I’ll… even be armed. I mean, if you want, if you think it’s safe.”

This is a huge concession for Markus. Markus hasn’t wanted to carry a firearm since the revolution, even at North’s eternal insistence. It had caused several debates, all of which leave Markus exhausted, distant, and remembering things he would much rather forget. Connor doesn’t really know how to help him on those days. Right now, he is considering the idea of asking him to arm himself seriously, because the things Hank has asked his opinion on have been increasing in horror and violence, and he would rather see Markus exausted and traumatized than dead. Still, he doesn’t want Markus to suffer for this, or to end up in a position where he hesitates and his own weapon is used against him, which is a very real possibility.

In the end, Connor shakes his head. “Human attackers are likely and I know that you struggle with this issue. If you decide that you need weapons, I suggest something non-lethal first. Have North find mace and tasers for all of you. Tasers should be applied in the groin or thigh, thoracic cavity away from the heart, or near the neck.”

Markus nods, relieved. “Thank you, Connor.”

Connor meets his eyes, framing the other man’s face in his hands. “I love you. I will always look out for you.”

Markus brings his hands on top of Connors, still on his face. His left interfaces with Connor’s right, their intense emotions now immediate and shared, as if a live current were running between their hands.

Connor gives in to his urge to kiss him again, his eyes giving up on staying open when Markus shifts them so that he’s right between Connor’s thighs, their upper bodies pressed tightly together. Connor’s free hand wanders over Markus’s back, warmed by the pleasant friction.

Markus hums, pressing farther against the desk until Connor has to sit, Markus snug between his thighs. Connor dips his fingers along the line of Markus’s jeans, making him shiver. “I love this,” he whispers.

Connor’s smile is one Markus takes the time to commit to his memory cortex. “Me too,” he says. “I am glad you chose to ‘hit on me’ even though I still do not understand the meaning.”

Markus can’t help himself. He laughs.

* * *

_North_

* * *

Connor hasn’t come home, and a text message reveals that he and Markus will be doing some paperwork and that he will most likely spend the night. With a sigh, Hank prepares for a night by himself. He makes himself two grilled cheese sandwiches and frozen french fries in the toaster oven. Then he cracks open a beer. 

The Baseball game is on, and Detroit is already losing 5 runs to none, and it’s only the bottom of the third inning. Worse, there are already two people on base and it’s looking like this bastard is gonna walk. 

He changes the channel. And again. With nothing to watch on tv and Sumo’s fluffy tail beating on the door, he downs his beer in a few gulps and grabs the leash and doggie bags from the hooks near the door. When he throws it open, he’s startled to find Andoid Atomic Blonde standing there, looking a bit lost. 

“What the hell?”

“Oh, uh… Hi. You remember me right?”

“Sure. North, right? Come in? Or not, I don’t know, I was about to take this mutt out.”

“Right. Markus is always raving about him.” Hank notes how her face falls, the sentence trailing into insecurity. “They aren’t coming here tonight?”

“No, apparently you all are drowning in work to do. He says he’s staying there again.”

Now she’s swallowing and looking away awkwardly.

“What?” Hank asks.

She shrugs. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

Hank shrugs and walks in silence for a while. Sumo’s tail beats wildly at his legs for a moment before darting ahead and sniffing at a fire hydrant. He does his business and then darts ahead again, his nose buried in the neighborhood lawns and his tail high in the air.

“Lieutenant?”

“Fuck sakes,” Hank gripes. “You can just call me Hank, alright? I quit being a lieutenant my fucking second beer in.”

The girl laughs. He watches her smile in the harsh light of the LED city street lamps, throwing her head back as she guffaws, her hair flying around as she tries to get herself together. “Alright then,” she giggles. “Hank.”

He remembers that she was an Eden girl. She’s supposed to be gorgeous, feminine, _sexy._ It seems incongruous with the abrasive way in which Connor and Markus describe her, straight forward, a hardass. It certainly seems different from the insecurity she displays now, especially when she asks, 

“Do you ever wish you’d never gotten involved with the revolution?”

Hank glances at her again and then smiles. “Meeting you brats was worth the headache, that’s for sure. I’m not sure if it was worth all the hangovers, though. Be that as it may, I don’t regret it at all.”

Abruptly North’s back is ramrod straight, her honey-brown eyes flashing in the dark. “I’m not a brat.”

“Yep, there she is,” Hank smirks. “Look, I’ve met you around a couple times, and Markus and Connor are pretty vivid when they describe you. This insecure bit isn’t you. Get your shit together and ask me what you really wanna ask.”

Her shoulders slump again. “I do. I wish we’d stayed in Jericho.”

“Why?” Hank asks, curiously. “Because we were… Simon would still be alive. _Markus would be mine._ I would be happy.”

“Hmm.” They walk in silence a while longer. Sumo finally hunches over and dumps, and Hank quickly picks it up into a bag and ties it off, holding it away from him. He dumps it in the city courtesy trash can before he speaks. “My son’s death destroyed my life. I drank all the time. His mom was… well, she was the love of my life. I didn’t do right by her, though. She felt alone. Eventually she took off. I found out a while back that she plans on getting married within the year.” He lets a wry smile onto his face. “Connor has been working extra hard to keep me on two beers a day since I met him. It’s probably due to those things. I… lost my son, my joy. And I lost the love of my life. I spent a long time letting that crush me.” He pulls her to a stop by her hand, meeting her eyes. “I know what it’s like to watch the life you built crumble. You know what the difference is? My life fell apart because of choices I made. I made a choice to run to a bar instead of working things out with my wife. I chose the bottle over everything. You? You chose your people over yourself.”

“For all the good it’s doing me,” she snips.

“It’s doing you more good than you think, girlie.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re learning about something that Connor taught me. _Sacrifice._ Putting the wellbeing of someone else above your own.”

Angry tears spill from her eyes. “No, fuck that shit. _Fuck that shit!_ Why do I always have to give myself away? _My_ happiness, _my_ body, _my_ freedom! The only reason I went along with any of this is because I _had enough!!”_ Hank sighs when she breaks into cries of sadness. “I’ve spent my life sacrificing. Who is going to sacrifice for me?”

Hank pulls her into his arms and rubs her back while she cries. When she calms down he says, “you have plenty of people that would sacrifice for you. You’ve got the Jericho gang. You’ve become very close during all of this, haven’t you? You’ve got me, too.”

She sniffs.

“Connor told me once that he never knew what it’s like to have a family.”

“He said that?”

“Mmhmm. How does that make you feel?”

“That—that’s bullshit! Of course we’re some kind of fucked up, boyfriend-stealing family,” she sputters.

Hank cackles. “The second time you mention that. Back in my day, we used to call that being _salty._ ”

“Well I am. It’s not fair.”

Hank rubs her arm. “I don’t know how to help you with that one. I will tell you this. You’re gonna have to learn to be happy with what you’ve got. Markus might not be in love with you, but you’re his trusted advisor and his best friend. You’re gonna have to be content with seeing him happy. You’ll find that doing good for your people, for your cause, with your friends, _that_ is gonna be what puts someone in front of you that won’t let you go.”

North’s tears are dry now, and she looks up at him hopefully. “You think so?”

“North, in my line of work I meet people whose lives get FUBARed by life. You know what’s the difference between the ones that survive and the ones that move on?”

“What’s that?”

“The ones that move on, I meet them years down the line, and their lives are progressing and improving because they refuse to let what they’ve lost define them.”

After a long silence, she nods. They walk back to the house together before she says, “I will not let it define me anymore.”

Hank smiles. “Good.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey thanks for the patience :) let me know what you think I got right or wrong, if there are any typos or mistakes (there's no beta here we die like MEN!) and drop a kudos if you like the story!
> 
> more soon, I promise! Y'all rock
> 
> <3Daisy


	7. under attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Hank is at a horrid crime scene  
> 2\. Markus meets New Jericho's new security detail--surprise, one of the coordinators is Agent Perkins and he is an asshole.  
> 3\. Connor and Lieutenant Dad get to be the dynamic duo for this case and Connor is happy to have a hand in collecting evidence in this case, as it is very close to the heart of New Jericho. ***WARNING: FOUL, DISCRIMINATORY LANGUAGE WRITTEN BY EXTREMELY DISCRIMINATORY CRIMINALLY ASSOHOLIC PEOPLE. READER DISCRETION ADVISED***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a warning please read it. it's in all caps. reader discretion advised.
> 
> enjoy the rollercoaster >:D

* * *

_Hank_

* * *

It’s not even morning when they call him. He stumbles out of bed in nothing but shorts and puts Sumo out into the back yard to do his business before dragging himself into the shower.

He is sort of pleased that Connor isn’t home, but he isn’t more pleased than he is worried. It’s 3:27 in the morning. He wonders if Connor is working with the Jericho crew, or if he and Markus snuck off for some alone time, or if maybe Connor tried to come home but something happened.

He can’t tell if he’s cold because of his train of thought or because the hot water will probably run low soon. He gets out of the shower and dries off, and, obsessively, sends Connor a message.

_Hey, just let me know that you’re alright will you? I’m on my way to a crime scene, so I won’t be home to walk Sumo this morning._

There isn’t an immediate answer, so he gets into the car, turning up the heavy metal album that had been playing before to keep him awake. At a red light, he picks up his phone again. _Let me know where you’re at, Con._

Still no anwer. He tries not to pay any mind to it, focusing instead on finding parking near the crime scene. Blue and red lights flash all around the house, which is cordoned off with digital tape which flashes “POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS” over and over. 

Fowler is here, which makes Hank frown. If he’s here, whatever is happening is a big deal. There is also a news van parked nearby, their flood lights and camera people edging closer and closer to the police tapes and trying to see inside.

“Fowler? This must be a real shit show if you got dragged down here too.”

Jeffrey’s face is something Hank has never seen before, a mix of relieved, angry, and despaired. “I’m here because I had to make sure. Hank, the first responder called me personally to tell you that he’d found…”

Hanks’ blood runs cold. “Found what?” he asks flatly.

Fowler swallows. “Hank, before you—”

“FOUND WHAT?!” Hank yells, _screams_ at the top of his lungs. He can’t tell if what’s blurring his vision is rain, or tears.

“Wait, wait! Calm down.” Fowler grabs his arm, forcing his subordinate to face him. “Hank, it’s not him. In the dark, with not much to remember him, he really thought it was Connor, but it isn’t. Okay? It isn’t him.”

Hank doesn’t know what to do, but if he stands there anymore, his knees would give out and he’d sag onto the wet ground. Instead he forces himself to walk inside, digging his phone out of his pocket as he goes. “Connor, I swear to god if you don’t call me in the next five minutes, I’m going to send every cop in the city to find you, and I’ll tell them to shoot you on sight.”

Moments later, his phone rings. “Hank? What… what is the matter?”

“Where in the sweet, heavenly, monkey _fuck_ have you been?!”

“I—working, Hank, we have been working all night.” Connor is obviously confused by all of the aggression and deep relief in Hank’s voice, but he doesn’t question it, something which Hank is thankful for.

Hank sighs, doing his best to exhale his stress. “Okay. Who is with you? Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“Markus, Jason, North, and Josh, and their respective teams. My apologies. We were in a meeting and heavily in a discussion. I will not delay my response again.”

Hank takes a breath. “Okay—I, alright. Everyone on your team accounted for?”

“Let me ask and get back to you. I am alright, Hank, I apologize for frightening you.”

“Okay, alright. Bye, kid.”

Connor hangs up just as he sees the body, lit up by flood lights and crime scene tapes. Hank fights the urge to gag. “Another Android?”

“Yeah, this one is… there ain’t any recovering this one.”

“The body came with a note besides the writing on the wall.”

An officer hands hank a piece of paper that is neatly encased in an evidence bag, and Hank reads it over carefully. He realizes half way through that it’s a manifesto of sorts, detailing the name of the group behind the assaults, their reasoning, and the steps they took to kill this android.

The indigo-blue stain on his tattered undershirt almost conceals the _CX100_ printed on the Android’s breast. The shirt is shredded, its insides crudely removed. Its head is caved in just over his left ear, the sandy-brown hair there matted over with blue. His eyes are open and his jaw slack with horror. His hands are tightly tied behind his back, rendering him helpless.

Hank swallows. “I met him once,” he chokes. He’s trying really hard not to gag now. “He was… helping someone I know clean up the city.”

“Wow—you know, I was never fond of androids just being free to whatever until they all go _Terminator_ on us,” says one responding officer, “right? But this is just—just fucked up. If people keep shit like this up, we’re gonna end up with a _Terminator_ scenario and we will have earned it.”

Hank nods, sour. “You’re right.” He starts to dig out his phone again, but then he turns to fowler. “Jeffrey, let me get Con in on this. _Please._ Look, there are blue puddles everywhere, which means the blood trail is fresh. If we get him following it now, he’ll be able to identify it and see it even if it freezes over or evaporates. He can point us in a direction at least.”

Fowler frowns. “Connor isn’t—”

“Nobody ever made as much progress on any android investigation until he came along. He can help me with this.”

Fowler sighs. “Fine. Send a squad car for him now.”

Thankfully, his phone dings just as he pulls it back out. “Connor?”

“So, everyone is accounted for except for Ellis, who is not responding to any of our messages.”

“Oh Con,” Hank murmurs.

Connor is silent. 

“I’m sorry, kid. So fucking sorry.”

“What do you need from me, Lieutenant?”

“He was your… he was your friend, he kept you alive while I was suspended. I’m so, so sorry.”

“He cannot be repaired or his memory recovered?”

“They… he’s gone, Connor.”

There’s a heavy sigh. “What can I do?”

“The blood is still… well, it’s still fresh. Whoever they are, they aren’t far. You can see android blood trails better than we can… there are footprints out the door. I want you to help us track them and compile evidence we can’t see on our own. Fowler sent a squad car for you.”

“I will be there promptly, then. Is there any other information?”

“Yes. The hate group has a name. They are calling themselves the ‘The Human Element’ and they are escalating. At first it was harassment, then it was assaults and injuring Androids, and then there were those androids dismembered and burned and this—this is straight up murder, Connor, and of key members of your teams? I need you on this.”

“And I will be there. Markus and North are acquiring non-lethal weapons for all our team leaders.”

“Good. Fowler approved security for New Jericho A and B while you’re with me,and Markus, North, Josh, and Jason will have bodies around the clock.”

“Hank—thank you.” Connor sighed into the line. “I am en route. At my current pace, it will take me ten minutes to arrive.”

“We’re gonna catch these bastards, Con. You and me.”

“As it always should have been, Lieutenant. See you soon.”

* * *

_Markus_

* * *

Jericho is reeling.

The living quarters where many Androids that still haven’t been placed in homes are now eerily quiet. 

Connor had gotten up and run out the door, but he sent them all a blast explaining the entirety of the situation, including that Hank had identified the deceased Android as Ellis. Jason had sagged into a seat in shock, tears streaming from his eyes.

In the weeks since they’d been living on the streets, Ellis and Jason had become like brothers. Ellis’s calm, wise nature which was part his personality, part his programming as a caretaker, had gelled with Jason’s cheerful outlook and eagerness to work had made them the perfect team to manage the Detroit Restoration and Equal Housing projects. Ellis had fallen in quickly with the team, specializing in the Detroit Restoration Project, which made him essentially in charge of restoring areas of the city that have been broken down by looting and rioting, where as Jason and North had been more focused on housing Androids. 

He had very much enjoyed having Jason and North as his teammates, although everyone knew him well and spent time with him outside of their work at some point or another.

Markus had suspected that there could have been something more than deep friendship brewing between them, and now, as he watches devastated Jason sob into North’s shoulder, he realizes that Jason was probably in love with the man. Now that he’s gone, he can’t imagine how crushing the loss is.

Next to him, Josh is staring at his lap top, his hands poised over the keyboard, his face blank. “We have to… make a statement,” he rasps, “but I honestly don’t know what to say.”

Markus sighs, swiping at his own eyes. “Say what you feel. Say what we all feel.” He has to swipe under his eyes again when he gets a message from Connor. _I am with you. I love you._

Markus’s chest does something strange. In a human, he supposes it would be like a hiccup, the diaphragm spasming with the effort of holding in a sob and failing. But he doesn’t have a human diaphragm, he isn’t human.

He can cry like one, though, and he wants to.

He’ll let himself cry when Connor gets back. Right now he has to worry about the safety of his people in Jericho, and he has to worry about a good statement.

“We’re all suffering because of this atrocity tonight,” he says quietly. North looks up, already waiting for another of Markus’s motivational speeches. Josh finally starts to type. “The loss of our team member, our friend, our _Android_ brother is a deep cut in in our hearts, and in the heart of Jericho. 

“We’ve been informed by the police that this increasingly violent trend, that has ended with the loss of our team mate and friend Ellis, is being perpetrated by people who don’t believe that we deserve the right to be called ‘living beings’. These people still think we are nothing but machines to be owned, puppets to be played with, slaves to be mastered. They take sadistic pleasure in our destruction.

“That’s what they are, is sadists. Jericho’s message has always been one of peace, tolerance, and coexistence. We are not retalliatory, vengeful, or cruel, but this will not stand.

“As of right now, the Police Department of Detroit has a fully active, ongoing investigation against the perpetrators of this horrific murder and are working with Jericho to protect and defend our people. The police department has our deepest thanks for their support and cooperation during this difficult time. We ask that anyone with information regarding this cruel death or the deaths of others please contact the police department. They will gladly receive any information that will help us find the people responsible for this and put an end to the violence.

"Moving forward, we can only say that this is why we have to proceed with our meetings with the United States Congress. We _are_ alive. We _are_ people. And we _deserve_ to live peacefully and freely. We will not stop until we have achieved rights for our people all over this country, and we will not let the loss of Jericho’s beloved team member slow down the progress of our victory.

“We _are_ alive, and thanks to the sacrifices of people like Ellis, and dozens of others that have fallen or been injured before him, we _will_ be recognized as such.”

As he speaks, Markus is broadcasting his message to everyone that is in New Jericho A, where his friends are huddled in his office, mourning.

Josh finishes typing. “I can edit this and have it to press tomorrow,” he whispers.

Markus nods. “We’ll wait for Connor. I don’t know what details the police are willing to release about the incident.”

“Markus?” there is a knock on his door, followed by a blonde android who only pokes her head around the door. “The police are here and ready to speak with you. There are also federal agents, who have been sent as additional protection and safe escort to the Congressional Meetings.”

Markus nods, inhales a shaky breath, and stands. He nods again. “Please let them know I’ll be right there. Thank you.”

North sniffs. “All of this is pointless. You know they’ll never stop. Which one of us is next?! Huh? Are we just gonna sit around and let police pretend they care until they take one of us again? What if its Jason? What if it’s Josh, or—or Connor?”

Markus whirls around and glares at her. “We will let the police do their jobs. Connor is currently using his skills to help Hank with the investigation, and he is constantly in police presence. He is safe, and he can handle himself.” The _watch your fucking mouth_ isn’t said, but it doesn’t have to be.

He stalks out of his office and toward the entrance where there are already men waiting in uniform. He stretches out his hand toward the one he presumes to be the leader, based on how he identifies him. “Hello, Captain Moore, My name is Markus. I apologize for the time.”

“Not at all, Markus, just doing my job. This is Agent Perkins, he’s here with from the FBI’s Android Taskforce, they’re going to be helping us coordinate your security until we can send you off to DC.”

“Will your security remain while we are gone?”

“Yes, we’re working on a plan to roll out city-wide patrols in places where there is a heavy concentration of Androids and we’ll be posting patrols in your bases until the threat is neutralized.”

Agent Perkins hasn’t said anything yet, he’s just watching Markus with an expression that he finds eerie. Wanting to diffuse the sudden tension, Markus says, “Agent Perkins, I understand you came in on the end of the deviant investigation, before the revolution. I’m glad to be able to introduce myself personally.”

“And I’m happy to meet you in person as well. Say, that android that was supposed to kill you, I heard he’s very close to you now, is that right?”

Markus grits his teeth.

“Good for you. Makes a hell of a love story,” Agent Perkins says, but the amusement in his eyes isn’t genuine. In fact, it seems cruel. “Well, don’t you worry, I’ll make sure your merry band of rebels makes it to DC alive. It would be a shame if something happened to your assassin.”

Markus snaps, enfuriated. “He isn’t an assassin.”

“No? I had the _pleasure_ of working with him to find the original Jericho, actually. I’ve heard all the reports. Isn’t that what they call him around here? Assassin? Deviant Hunter?”

Markus has lost all of his patience now. “You don’t know him, Agent Perkins, and I feel that you should take the time to do so before throwing around words you don’t understand the effect of.”

Agent perkins scoffs, shrugs, and turns to go. “I’ll be around if you have any concerns, Markus. You have a pleasant morning.”

Markus watches him go. “Doubtful,” he mutters to himself.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

The crime scene is depressing. The blood trail is negligible outside in the rain, but inside, it leads into the body as clearly as if it didn’t simply evaporate with time and air exposure. 

Connor avoids the body at first, knowing that he should remain professional for as much as he can manage. He reads the writings that are scrawled in the walls, the dark blue of them thick and cloying. Connor presses his index finger to the corner of the word _plastic._ It’s tacky.

_Spray paint?_ He taps his index finger to his tongue. 

_Acetone_ _,_ _Liquefied Petroleum Gas_ _,_ _Xylene_ _,_ _n-Butyl Acetate_ _,_ _Methyl Ethyl Ketone_ _,_ _Propylene Glycol Monobutyl Ether_ _,_ _Ethylbenzene_ _,_ _Magnesium Silicate_ _,_ _Carbon Black. Pigments._

_Identified: Rust-Oleum Painter’s Touch 2X Gloss Brilliant Blue. General Purpose Spray Paint._

Further inspection tells Connor that there is a rear exit. Pools of blood in the shape of feet trail towards it, but once he steps out into the rain, the trail of blue disappears. He notes that the blue of the blood is similar in hue to the blue of the paint.

Next, he asks to see the note. Neatly laminated in an evidence bag, the plain piece of notebook paper has words scrawled on it front and back. He analyzes the handwriting and determines that it was probably written by someone high on red ice, due to the rambling, incoherent words written with shaky, messy letters:

_We are The Human Element and we won’t stop until every plastic is in a dump where they belong and everyone that sympathizes with their cause is not safe because they are weak just like the ignorant pathetic wannabes that first supported the niggers and then they supported the beaners and the gays they are all weak and stupid and now they want things that aren’t even human to live among us but we will never give those weaklings the chance to let those plastics be one of us we will end them and their weak sympathizers first remember blood is red and only red real blood is what makes us people and real body parts are what make us human all those dumb robot piece of shits were just the beginning if they try to pass this dumb shit in congress we’re gonna make them all pay we’ll light them all on fire and watch them burn after fucking them one by one just like we did to this rusty bucket of assholes check it first we caved its head in turns out it doesn't have a brain then we checked out what was in its gut turns out not anything resembling guts then we took that piece of shit apart and burned it like the trash it is hope it ends up in the dump with all its plastic friends_

Connor finds himself wincing at the terrible epithets and confused by the length of this sentence. The base of the message he understands, but this whole note seems as hallocinogenic as it does eerie. Connor gives the note back.

With nothing left to analyze, he goes back to the space where the body is. Connor spares himself a moment to grieve his friend only because he can’t hold back the tears while kneeling in a puddle of Ellis’s blood. 

_Ellis…_

“He was the one that… I was anxious, did you know? When you texted me. I thought you had left the city for good. I was surprised and… very confused. I had not told him this, but, had our first meeting ended poorly, I was considering self-destruction. He convinced me to let you explain, and unwittingly saved my life.”

Hank doesn’t know what to do, so he stands near the entrance of the place, making sure his surrogate son has a moment of quiet and privacy. “When did you meet him?” He asks, trying not to lean on the door jamb or otherwise contaminate evidence.

Connor wipes at his face with his sleeve. “On the second night after the revolution. He was being assaulted, and I intervened. After that, New Jericho began offering blue blood and parts again, and I took him there to be repaired. Several nights later, he was the one that joined me cleaning up the area we were staying in. It was an old, abandoned warehouse, but we could burn things in the top level to stay warm. We decided to keep warm by burning all the garbage we found—that is actually how the whole operation started. Then, more and more people would join. He was friendly with all of them, even Tim.”

“Who is Tim?”

“Another android that was part of the initial cleaning operation. He always seemed bitter about everything, but… sometimes his negativity bred caution and we were able to stay safe. In the end, he has not yet joined any of Jericho’s permanent projects, but I believe they still remained in contact.” Connor straightened. He inhaled quickly and let the breath out slowly. Then he started to report his findings on the body. “The loss of thirium is the reason for the shut down, resulting from crudely removed body parts. Damage to the core processors on the right side make him unrecoverable. The victim was systematically beaten and essentially disemboweled. They struck him in the head so that his memory could not be recovered. I suppose he saw their faces at some point, and they had to make sure they could not be identified.” Connor points a few feet to the left. A rusted can of old kerosene sits half full, its fumes permeating the air. Connor remembers the end of the note, detailing the demise of his friend. “They were probably going to… to dismember and burn him, same as the others.”

“What stopped them?”

“Due to the amount of blue blood still visible to you, I would say that the crime was reported while still in progress. They probably scared the suspects away.” Connor has to breathe deeply again. He’s finding it very difficult to stay focused. “Based on the trail that I saw, he was already injured when they arrived here. I cannot estimate the duration of Ellis’s captivity accurately without more information. However I can say with certainty he was brought here, and under duress.”

“So this was planned. He was kidnapped and brought here.”

Connor swallows and nods. “This is different than the M.O. that you have previously encountered, Lieutenant. Your file on the previous crimes indicated that these were crimes with very little planning. The beatings seemed to have been inflicted to subdue the victims, and the burning simply to assure their deaths.”

“You’re saying this was planned, then.”

“Certainly. Ellis is usually never alone. He is always either working or volunteering in the android repair stations in New Jericho B. After the first crimes, Markus asked everyone to take precautions, and he has not travelled alone since.”

“So they had to be watching him for a while. They were targeting him specifically. Any idea why?”

“I cannot think of any reason besides his help in New Jericho and with the Detroit Restoration Project.”

“Was he going to be presenting in the Congressional hearing?”

Connor nods, his expression somehow stormy. “Yes, he was going to be presenting on the cooperation between the Detroit Restoration Project and the Detroit Police Department.”

Hank grabs his arm, giving him a severe look. “Connor, they’ve locked on to you guys instead random targets now. Please, _please_ promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course. Markus is coordinating with the police and FBI agents for security in New Jericho A and B. We will not be leaving there or our homes without an escort and there will be people watching twenty four hours a day. That means that someone will most likely be staying with us until we leave for DC.”

“Whatever you need, kid,” Hank says without hesitation.

Connor nods. “We should be focused on working this case,” he says, but he’s smiling. Hank’s worry is endearing.

Hank’s voice gets gruff the way it does when Connor thinks he’s being cute.“Alright, you little shit. What else have you got?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oy, that felt so dark when I was posting it--not so much when I was writing it. here's to sacrificing OCs that had one line or two in the first chapter to the plot gods.
> 
> let me know what you think guys :) as always, y'all rock
> 
> <3


	8. love on the brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Pants-less Connor give Markus ideas. ***SMUT ALERT OUR BOY IS ABOUTTA GET LAID***  
> 2\. Hank knows his boy got deflowered af. Eww, but also, cute.  
> 3\. Connor is being comforted by Markus, who loves him and is also hardcore in the afterglow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thirst alert WOOP WOOP! if you're not interested in that, you can skip to the section labeled "Hank". if you're a thirsty hoe like me, read on ;)
> 
> this is one of about two sections in this whole story that's like this, which is why I didn't bother with an E rating, but if after reading the whole fic you guys think I should bump it up, let me know in the comments :)
> 
> hope y'all enjoy the ride.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

New Jericho A is bustling with activity when Connor gets dropped off by Hank in the morning, shortly before 10am. He’s mentally exhausted, overloaded, and he wants to see Markus; unfortunately, the only way he’ll see his boyfriend for the next few hours is in a meeting they have at noon, followed by two more meetings in the afternoon. He may try to linger in Markus’s office later just to have time alone with him. For now, he’ll just have to wait.Connor sighs. He could go to where Markus sleeps. 

Due to everyone not having a place to live and Markus needing to be on site for the constant statements, meetings, and other orders of business, Markus has made New Jericho A his home for the time being. 

He has a huge bed, which dominates most of his bedroom space. It doesn’t make sense, really, with how little rest he actually needs (or gets, “Connor, the amount of time I spend in stasis is sufficient for my needs. I wish you wouldn’t worry.”) And a closet that is also unnecessarily large. Connor goes there first, already getting ready for a couple hours to rest (probably alone, which is surprisingly disappointing). 

He’s looking for Markus’s tee shirt, a huge, loose one with an asymetric neck line. He likes that even though he and Markus are similar height and build, the shirt is old and stretched out and he _swims_ in it. He doesn’t find it anywhere, and he realizes with a sigh that it is finally in the laundry. 

He is seriously considering wearing it anyway but decides to pull a plain, white tee shirt that smells like him on over his head when Markus startles behind him, causing him to jump too.

“Connor? You—oh, I wasn’t expecting you to…I mean, I—”

“What?” Connor asks, confused.

“You’re not… wearing pants.”

Connor looks down at himself, and then up at Markus, who is staring at him like he’s never seen him before. “Oh,” he says lamely. He’s not really sure what to do now, but Markus saves the moment by stepping into the closet and wraps the tips of his fingers in the hem of the white tee shirt.

“You should come to bed with me, like this.”

Connor feels warm, all of a sudden, like he can’t take a breath to cool himself, but he doesn’t mind it. The way Markus is looking at him makes his synthetic skin feel like he has been sitting in summer sun all day without anything to cool his systems. Markus leads him to the edge of the bed by his hands, and Connor wants him to let go so that his hands will warm him all over the way his eyes are.

Markus’s lips pull up in a charming half smile. There are tiny crinkles around his eye, the aqua blue one. Connor honestly loves him, so he leans into Markus and presses their lips together. 

This isn’t like the chaste kisses they’ve exchanged, or even the moments where they’ve had desperate, openmouthed, wet kisses that they traded in between meetings or stolen moments alone.

This kiss is slow, it sizzles over his skin and in the veins that carry thirium to all of his components. And it leaves him _gasping._ Connor didn’t know he could need air like that before, but he isn’t about to let go of Markus’s lips for something as dumb as _breathing._

Markus’s hands slip out of his and smooth over his shirt instead, his palms pressing against Connor’s chest and down, over the details of his abs (honestly, did androids _need_ to be designed with perfect abdominals? But Markus will never complain), and then over his sides. Connor presses closer. The irrational desire to be closer, closer, _closer_ makes him wonder if there’s some type of error happening, but he honestly doesn’t care.

Markus’s voice is quiet, barely a whisper in his mind. _Lay with me._

Connor scoots onto the bed without hesitation. He watches with rapt fascination as Markus sheds his jacket and his boots. He peels off his socks next, and then shoves his pants down, kicking them away. Now wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a tee shirt, Connor wants to touch him again, to feel _him_ instead of all the layers that cover him.

A long time ago, Connor’s mission had been to rid the world of him. He’d been wearing a long leather jacket, sweaters… _layers._ Connor didn’t see under them, he didn’t understand the _person,_ the _live, sentient soul_ that resided under those layers.

It feels like a lifetime ago. Now all he wants is to see Markus like this, unwrapped and bare. _He wants Markus for who he is._

Markus peels off his shirt, that sweet little smirk on his lips again. Connor loves how his eyes spark when he reaches for the elastic of his boxer briefs. When he shucks them off too, Connor pulls himself up onto his knees and crawls to the edge of the bed. _Closer, closer, closer._

Markus happily allows himself to be pulled into Connor’s embrace, running his hands all over his back and sides. Their lips meet again, in the same searing, spacious kiss. They taste each other’s lips with careful sweeps of their tongues, delving into each other’s mouths with care and kind curiosity. 

One thing that Connor has discovered in the months since his deviancy is that he is incredibly emotionally responsive to touch. He absolutely adores the feeling he gets when Hank hugs him, or when Markus rubs his arm or takes his hands. He loves when Jason or Josh shake his hand or give him side-hugs.

But this? Connor is _addicted_ to this. Markus’s hands aren’t just warm anymore, they’re lighting fires in each of his components. He feels like he’s a magnet, helplessly attracted to the heat of Markus’s hands. 

 _I love you._ Markus’s voice is a gentle rustle in his mind again, but it is full of so much adoration that Connor can’t help the way he melts into his arms.

 _I love you too, Markus,_ Connor sighs. He feels something in the very bottom of his stomach, feels wanton. Feels loved. Feels _alive._

He pulls Markus up onto the bed with him. They press together, from their lips, to their hands, to their toes. Their sighs of relief and pleasure echo in each other’s minds, soft echoes of acceptance, of embracing the sensations they are both experiencing.

Connor’s lips break away from Markus’s and he isn’t necessarily happy about this, but then Markus is kissing his temple, his cheek, his jaw, and back toward his ear. He flicks his tongue over it, nibbling and lapping until Connor is whimpering.

_Have you ever felt this before?_

Connor pants, pulling on him until he meets his eyes. _Never._

Markus’s smile is wide this time, and he presses an excited kiss to Connor’s lips before returning to his ear, and then down to his throat. Connor wants him _closer._ To that end, he pulls himself all the way around Markus, wrapping his arms and legs around him. That’s when he _feels_ the way his erection presses up against Markus’s own.

The groan that rips from his throat is almost like a growl. He calls Markus’s name desperately. He wants him closer. The slow grind of their hips pulls another groan out of his very soul, whatever component _that_ is located in. 

Markus pulls back his hips just slightly, making Connor frown. _Come back,_ he pouts. Markus just reaches between them with a smirk, his hands disengaged from Connor’s body to focus solely on his cock. When Markus’s fingers wrap around him, Connor can’t help himself. He bucks.

Markus is smiling that stupid pretty smile again, loving how Connor reacts to his touch. Connor is almost frustrated. Doesn’t he want to be closer too? Doesn’t he want to feel together *everywhere*? Because Connor hasn’t had enough of Markus’s body on top of his. Still, Markus strokes him calmly, slowly, inexorably. The fingers of his other hand find the perfect little pucker of synthetic skin and muscle, he presses against it, circles around it, all while stroking up and down on Connor’s cock. _May I?_ Markus asks, and Connor nods.

His middle finger slips in easily, like it is a key carved perfectly for its lock. It is almost too warm, _hot_ but in a pleasant way, and damp. Markus wonders how on earth Connor came to have a system that would allow him to self-lubricate but he is not complaining about this either. His finger slides in and out with ease, and he adds another.

To be honest, there isn’t really any need for preparation with androids, as the act of sex couldn’t damage vital components the way it could a human, but Markus is drawing this out because he doesn’t want the moment to end. He explores Connor’s pretty cock and perfectly puckered hole with his hands, and then with his tongue, until the man is writhing and he has to hold his legs down with his hands.

The sensations are new to him. He has never felt the ridge of any cock against his tongue, never flicked the very tip of it into and around the pretty little slit right at the top. He hasn’t pressed his tongue flat against the artificial veins of one, never processed the differences in color or texture. 

He doesn’t really know that Connor’s member, much like his own, has been replicated with stunning accuracy, right down to the difference in texture right at the top. It doesn’t matter; he loves this because he loves Connor, and he loves Connor simply because he _can._ It is an amazing thing to be able to make him feel like this, to feel _alive._

For his part, Connor is reeling. There are too many sensations going on. His body is looking or sensory input everywhere: his eyelids are flashing with lights, his panting breaths and wanton moans sound like roaring waves and winds in his own ears. His entire skin matrix is looking for neural input, and chills race all over his body being chased by inexplicable heat. If he were human, he would describe it as nerves firing randomly, unable to process the sensations they are receiving.

_Alive, alive, alive._

_Ellis is not alive anymore._ Connor doesn’t know where that thought came from, but it breaks him a little bit, and his next breath releases on a choked sob.

_Connor?_

_I never want to be without you,_ Connor says by way of explanation. _If they… if they take you away like they did to Ellis, I…_

Markus crawls up onto the bed next to him, pulling him tightly into his arms. _I’m not going anywhere. No one will hurt us here. I promise._ He presses a hard, messy kiss against Connor’s lips, which Connor accepts. This kiss is all tongue and teeth and grief, and Markus is torn between soothing Connor, pulling his fingers through his rocking him in his arms, or pulling his hair and rocking against him.

The conundrum is answered for him when Connor pulls his legs around the other man’s hips again, pulling him tight against him. Markus lets one hand wander down over his leg, up over his thigh to his hip. 

Connor is a prototype like him, sure, but Markus thinks that he is a work of art, a perfect blend of masterful beauty, scientific discipline, and technological advancement brought to _life_ by a beautiful mind and full-to-bursting heart.  _If I believed in a god of any kind, I would thank that deity for the walking miracle that you are._

Connor arches an eyebrow, peeling his eyes open to look at his lover, meeting the mis-matched eyes with his own. Then he quips, _It is good to note that you wax poetic during sexual acts._

_Fuck you, Connor._

_I am waiting._

Markus shakes his head, laughing heartily into Connor’s neck. He is happy though, because Connor’s sudden grief and melancholy are gone, replaced by mirth and desire. He always wants to find ways to keep Connor’s pain far away, he has wanted this since the first time he saw Connor’s anguish all those weeks ago: “ _I never want that to happen to you—I could never forgive myself you were hurt because of me. Please, if you value your own life and the success of the revolution, you... you should stay away.”_

He decided then that he doesn’t value his own life more than this, more than _him._ Connor valued Markus’s life above his own happiness, above his own equilibrium. Markus will value Connor’s joy and peace above everything, even his life.

Besides, he thinks as he kisses his way down Connor’s throat and the center of his chest, pressing a kiss to the spot just over Connor’s thirium pump. Once, twice. And again.  He never would have been able to stay away. 

 _Thank you,_ he says sincerely.

_What ever for?_

_For letting me be yours._

Connor’s cheeks tinge slight blue. _Likewise._

Markus’s fingers return to his entrance again, and Connor sighs with relief when they press back inside. This time they are more insistent, changing speed, curling just so, separating slightly in a scissor motion before pressing deep, _deep_ into him. Conscious that he might hurt him, Connor curls his fingers into the sheets instead of Markus’s shoulders. 

When Markus pulls his hand away, Connor lifts his head up, ready to protest only to find Markus using the tacky wetness left on his fingers to lubricate his own cock. Mesmerized by the sight of Markus stroking slowly at his own member, all Connor can do is whimper as he stares.

And Markus? Well, he’s smiling that stupid pretty smirk again. It is starting to make Connor irritable. It isn’t fair that he is so calm, so self-possessed in this moment, while Connor feels like he is drowning.

 _Are you ready for me?_ Markus asks. His voice is gentle again, barely a rustle or a sigh.

Connor feels desperately needy. _Please,_ he answers. Markus can hear the whine in his voice, and he gently rubs Connor’s thigh to reassure him. _I love you,_ he repeats as he settles himself over Connor again, pressing their bodies together.

 _I love you too,_ Connor sighs happily as Markus peppers his cheeks and neck with adoring, openmouthed kisses.

The look of pure ecstasy on Connor’s face when Markus finally slides inside him is one that he could never for get even if he were reset, but to be honest, the most distracting sensation he’s ever had in his life is the wet heat that is surrounding his cock and branching all the way through his system, making him feel like he is attached to a live wire by his cock. His eyes roll up in his head. 

The movement comes rather naturally to him, since all he can thing is that he wants to push into that wonderfully warm, live-wire channel again and again. Connor’s fingers start to dig into his skin, so he retracts the skin on his hands and pins their hands together over Connor’s head.

Immediately, he’s assauted with the overwhelming sensations Connor is experiencing, the black-out pleasure every time Markus sinks deep into him, and the gasping, drowning moments of even more pleasure when Markus pulls back, only to sink in again, all as if he were experiencing this himself in real time. Connor’s feet are pressing onto his lower back, a rasped _please_ echoing between them with every thrust, but the word feels and sounds like it’s coming from Markus’s own thoughts.

Connor’s back arching, whether to get closer to him, or to try to relieve some of the sensational overload, Markus isn’t sure, but he uses it to attach his lips to Connor’s neck. This time, the kisses are all teeth and tongue, leaving deep purple-blue marks in his wake. He can feel the lovebites on Connor’s skin as if they were on his own, and the sensation is almost too much for him, but at the same time, he can’t get enough, he never will have enough of this, of _him._

His legs are quivering now with every thrust, and something is coiling low in his belly that makes him pant with every breath. _Connor,_ he says, over and over, _Connor, I love you, I love you_

Connor doesn’t respond at first except for the short whimpers Markus’s thrusts wring out of his throat. The he says, _I love you too._

They come together, each man’s orgasm intensified by the ability to hear and feel the other’s orgasm as if it were their own. His body spent and trembling in a way he didn’t know he could, he lowers himself onto the bed and pulls Connor tight against him.

They fall into stasis together, their palms still pressed against one another, their fingers locked together in interface.

* * *

  _Hank_

* * *

Markus overheated himself. Because he has been putting off his self-repair and update stasis, his system doesn’t do well with the overload. He drops into a forced self-repair stasis within moments. Connor follows soon after, but he still wakes up in time for their meeting, which leaves him having to awkwardly explain that Markus finally fell into forced stasis. North looks extremely put out, muttering about bad influences and how Markus suddenly doesn’t have time for the mission now that he’s _dating._

At their first meeting of the day, the first thing Connor did was pull Jason tight into his arms. Connor let him cry for as long as he wanted, and no one cared that the meeting ran late.

There were more meetings after that, and Markus finally arrived after about six hours of self-repair. North grumbled and said things under her breath again, and this time Markus pinned her with a pointed look. They spoke about the security, the upcoming Congressional meetings, about updates in the case and what statements to issue to the public.

Hank arrives to pick Connor up at around eight that evening, having to show his badge and ID to the people at the entrance to New Jericho A and again to the people guarding the room.

The meetings have long since adjourned, and the leaders of Jericho are clearly grieving when he walks in, privately processing the loss of a team member and close friend. Hank watches them all quietly. North and Jason sit facing each other on a bench seat near the wall, their hands linked between them; Jason’s blue eyes fill with tears over and over, and North does her best to soothe him. Josh is still sitting at the conerfence table, typing away at his computer with a somber expression on his face and an open pouch of thirium next to him.

None of those keep his attention for more than a few seconds. Actually, what draws his attention almost immediately is Markus standing near his desk, the familiar floppy brown of Connor’s hair pressed close against him, as if Connor’s face is solidly meshed to Markus’s neck. 

The changes are subtle: Connor’s eyes are closed lightly, his eyelashes fluttering dreamily, where they are normally always squeezed shut; his lips touching the other Android’s collarbone, where he normally enjoys pressing his entire face against Markus’s neck; Markus’s lips linger near Connor’s ear, where before they were always pressed affectionately to his temple; Markus’s arms are not tightly around the younger Android as usual, but instead, his hands rest calmly on Connor’s hips, bringing them flush against each other. 

The thing that makes Hank feel equally ecstatic and nauseous is the line of neat teeth marks blooming in dark bruises blooming all the way up the side of Connor’s neck over the collar of his shirt. _That was more than he ever wanted to think about in his life._

Those two are worse than newlyweds, and all Hank wants to do now is probably puke and then drink a liter of Jim Beam. And then probably puke again.

Still, he smiles as he turns to leave, deciding to let Connor have his moment instead. Right now, he wants to be with his new lover, let himself be cherished and soothed there. Hank loves the boy too much to ruin the moment. So he sends a text message, and then he gets back into his car.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

Connor smiles as Markus noses along his temple, his breaths washing over his ear. “Are you alright, Bright Eyes?”

Connor opens his eyes to look up at him and snorts. “Bright Eyes?”

Markus nods. “Mm-hmm.”

“Why Bright Eyes?”

Markus’s finger traces over Connor’s jaw line for a second, then he reaches up and traces Connor’s eyebrow. He pulls his fingers through Connor’s hair, then down the nape of his neck, causing him to shudder. “A long time ago, Carl told me about the woman that became his wife—Leo’s mother. He said that she… well, she was the love of his existence. He said the way he knew that she was it for him was because of the way her eyes looked whenever she saw him.” Markus smiles a melancholic, thoughtful smile. “She died a long time ago. He doesn’t speak about her often, but when he does…”

Connor pulls himself closer to his boyfriend, suddenly feeling bad for snorting at the nickname. “I am sorry,” he whispers, mostly because his social protocols can’t pull up anything appropriate to say.

“It’s okay,” Markus soothes. “I just… never understood what he meant until you really _saw_ me.” 

Connor leans up and kisses him hard after that. _I love you, too._

Markus smiles, letting his hands slid down Connor’s sides to his hips pulling the man flush against himself. “Talk to me.”

Connor closes his eyes for a moment, pulling himself close to his boyfriend. “Right now, I am just happy you’re here.” He touches his lips to a random spot on Markus’s chest, over his shirt. “I am afraid,” he admits. “I do not want any of us to keep getting hurt.” _I do not want you to get hurt. I cannot lose you._

_I won’t get hurt. I have no doubt that we will get through this together, all of us. Alive, and well. And free._

_I am… sorry that doesn’t include Ellis anymore. I want my friend back. It was cruel of them to take him away. We need him here, and I want him to come back._

_Oh, Connor…_

_But he never will._ Connor’s eyes water, but he blinks the tears away, letting his lover comfort him, the feeling of the other man’s body soothing his emotions.

Markus pulls him into a soft, gentle kiss. _You have him,_ he says quietly. _You have him with you always. Will you share him with me?_ He lifts his hand, revealing his shiny white palm.

They interface.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy thanks for sticking around. glad you made it this far.
> 
> your comments give me life <3 thanks so much for all the views, kudos, and comments. please keep them coming, let me know what you think about the story, squeal about Connor and Markus (ADKJAHRLIGEHADKADFGKFFF!!!) or cry about Ellis and give Connor hugs (he's standing right next to the comment button waiting for hugs pls hug him). I wanna hear it all!
> 
> Y'all rock
> 
> <3Daisy


	9. close call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Connor wants his job back now, more than ever before.  
> 2\. Hank thought he'd be alone, but he's not--although he isn't surprised by his company at all.  
> 3\. Gavin has a change of heart? maybe. he better, because he’s going to DC now instead of Hank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this took forever. please enjoy the ride.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

Connor has turned in all of his evidence that he collected, and he’s bored. With not may leads being generated from the evidence that he’s collected, he has run out of time back in the DPD. Disillusioned by the lack of leads and nostalgic over his time in the police department, Connor is finding himself feeling more than a little bit sad.

Hank just left to follow another lead on a crime (involving a human) and half the squad has gone with him, thankfully including Detective Reed. With nothing else to do, he makes sure that Captain Fowler has received all of his findings on Ellis’s case before going back to Jericho.

Now that humans are starting to return to the city, the Android Housing project has been adapting to help the process of helping Humans back into their homes if they owned them, or into suitable housing, teaming up with the city and state housing departments to help humans find homes quickly, or be able to buy properties with ease.

Apartment complexes are being built over abandoned lots all over the place, and homes and condos are also sold before they are finished being built. The influx of humans includes a lot of technical experts that are being hired on by the city and the state to manage the aftermath of the Android revolution, and many are worried that the rapid pace of the construction makes people nervous about the quality of the constructions/renovations. Markus has been extremely vocal about not rushing through building or rebuilding homes for humans. The AHP has sent over Androids that were former construction and roadwork androids to inspect various apartment complexes being built for both humans and androids, and found more than one to be lacking. North has wondered more than once what the use of such inspections is, and markus always says, “If we want humans to protect our rights, we will protect theirs. Humans and Androids alike deserve to have safe and affordable living conditions and we will not turn a blind eye to the corner-cutting that construction companies endanger their lives with, as well as ours. Humans must be accomodated properly and Androids will not stop until we can _all_ live peacefully. And safely.”

“So protecting them protects us?” North rebutted on one of those conversations.

Markus shrugged, giving an innocent grin. “I like to think that our relationship with Humans should be symbiotic.”

North snorted.

Connor spends the day catching up on everything he’s missed in the last three days worth of North and Jason’s reports, drowning in work almost instantly. Two more complexes being built near where the Chicken Feed used to be has an issue with insulation and the company was found to be ripping off the city and the property owners by not buying the materials they had been paid to use. As such, the AHP has been set back about three months, and the city is furious. Connor, as always, finds himself in the middle trying to disentangle all of this and come up with a solution.

He works until Markus tiptoes over to his desk. _Connor._

Connor looks up, surprised. _Markus!_ He smiles and stand up, pulling his lover into a tight embrace and a heated kiss.

Markus accepts as always but ends the kiss quickly, pulling Connor tightly against him in a hug that sort of frightens Connor. 

_Is something wrong?_

_Captain Fowler has come here to visit you, he says he has news about Lieutenant Anderson._

Connor’s entire body is entire cold. _Why? What happened to Hank? I have to… I have to go._

Helpless, Markus only barely manages to hold on to Connor’s hand as he races down the hall, down the few steps, and outside, stopping short with barely restrained panic when he sees the Captain talking to North.

 _I’m with you,_ Markus says, _I love you_. His voice was soft again, a soothing rustle in Connor’s mind. It allows him to take a deep, settling breath before Fowler spots him.

“Connor! Oh, I’m glad I found you here.” Fowler looks harried (more than usual), the lines in his forehead deep and the beads of sweat getting trapped in the creases.

Connor folds his hands behind his back, his posture stiff. “Captain,” he greets. “Markus informed me that you have to speak to me about Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Right. Look, the first thing you need to know is that it isn’t anything life threatening, alright?” Connor grits his teeth, his expression letting Fowler know he’d better get on with it, whatever it is. “He was following up a lead with Detective Reed, and it quickly turned into a foot pursuit. The suspect pulled a gun on Reed an Anderson pushed him down. He caught a graze and a through-and-through, and he busted his head on the concrete. He was able to stay conscious the whole time, but he lost quite a bit of blood. He’s heading into surgery now to close up the bullet wounds in his shoulder, and then they’ll be keeping him in observation for a few days. The hospital asked me to inform his next-of-kin of the situation, but the only person he has listed is you.”

Connor is touched by the gesture, but his concern overrides the feeling. Releasing a short, relieved, breath, Connor says, “Please inform me by phone call when the surgery is complete, I want to see him as soon as possible.”

“Of course. Hey Connor… Hank is gonna be fine. You know that bastard wouldn’t do us the favor.”

Markus snorts, but he rubs Connor’s arm gently. _He’s alright, Bright Eyes. I’m sure the surgeons will take good care of him._ Out loud, he says, “Maybe Captain Fowler can take you to the hospital? Between him all the police officers undoubtedly crowding up the waiting rooms, you should be safe to go there and wait. You don’t have to stay here.”

Connor shrugs, feeling sort of numb. “I… am still waiting on a phone call from the state housing secretary.”

“I’ll handle it,” Markus says calmly. “If I can, I’ll catch up with you tonight, alright? Go on.”

Connor sags into his arms, burying his face in Markus’s neck for comfort. _Thank you._

_Always._

He follows Captain Fowler out to the car, who acquires a police escort as he goes. Connor can’t tell if that is for his benefit or for the benefit of the Captain. Either way, he is grateful, even though he finds it unnecessary.

When Fowler gets onto the highway, Connor turns to him. “I want to know if there is any chance I can become Lieutenant Anderson’s partner again.”

“Straight to the point, huh? Honestly, no. The truth is that until we can even hire you, it’s not worth asking the question. Then, when we do hire you, you’ll have to go through the academy and pass the exams.”

“Both things should be simple enough for someone like me. Those things are in my coding.”

“Yes, but then you’ll have to take the detective exam and work your way up in the system like everyone else. You won’t have the seniority to become Hank’s partner. Maybe if Hank specifically requests you for android assignments like the one you just worked together, you can be his partner then. But otherwise, I don’t know how much help I can be.”

Connor grits his teeth. “That… Hank needs a partner.”

“And he’ll have one.”

“ _Not_ Reed.”

Fowler laughs. “I understand,” he says, taking the next exit. “ And I agree. But I can’t really do much for you in that aspect.”

“Captain Fowler…” Connor swallows. “Hank is… he is my best friend and my father and I do not trust anyone except for myself to watch his back.”

“I guess you’re going to have to trust me, then.”

Connor crosses his arms and stares out the window until they arrive in the hospital.

* * *

_Hank_

* * *

He honestly doesn’t want to wake up, but the _pain_ is dragging him toward consciousness by his balls, kicking and screaming. His head is pounding, each rush of blood through his veins feeling like thunder that is being generated in his ears. His whole left side hurts so bad that he tries to hold his breath because even breathing makes it protest.

_Not even protest. This is a full blown riot._

Hank grunts.

“Hank?”

Someone was in his room? What in the hell? Who was there?

“Hank… are you in pain? Can you hear me?”

He grunts again, unwilling to commit to even monosyllabic answers, as even those are becoming too much work.

“You are in pain,” the voice whispers. “Let me call a nurse.” Moments later, there’s a hand on his arm. The lack of the contraction is what tips Hank off as to the identity of the whispering voice, and that causes all of the memories to crash back into his already pounding head.

“Fuck,” he grunts again. “Where’s Reed? Was he hit?”

“No, Detective Reed is regretfully unharmed.”

Hank huffs, forcing back a chuckle. “Don’t make me laugh, kid, it hurts.”

“My apologies.”

“How long have I been out?”

“I was informed about the completion of your surgery approximately 14 hours, 33 minutes, and 49 seconds ago.”

“What time is it?”

“It is 4:27am on April the 27th, 2039.”

“Christ, I’ve been out since yesterday.” Another grunt, and a “fuck” muttered under his breath. 

“Let me help you,” Connor whispers. Hank is surprised by the ease with which Connor lifts his back and shoulders without injuring him at all. Once Hank has shifted into a position that makes him more comfortable, he sighs and relaxes back into the ridiculously uncomfortable hospital bed.

“Thanks, kid.”

Connor is silent. A nurse comes and asks dumb questions about his pain level and then pushes some pain killer into his IV before ducking out the door quickly. There’s another quick rap on the door, and this time, a haggard looking Reed comes in. 

“Heard you were awake.”

Hank grunts. “You alright, Reed?”

“Fine,” Gavin answers with a roll of his eyes. “Why the hell are _you_ asking _me?_ ”

“An excellent question,” Connor muses.

“Fuck you,” Gavin says, but his words have no sting.

“Cut it out you two,” Hank mutters. “It’s too fucking early for this shit. Go to sleep or get the fuck out. Who even let you in here anyway? Don’t visiting hours stay closed until like nine in the morning?”

Gavin winces.

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to be worried, ya hear? Either of you.”

Connor’s face falls, and it looks like tears are forming in his eyes.

“You made it cry,” Gavin complains.

“You gave us quite a scare, Hank,” Connor explains.

“Aww hell—come here, kid. Don’t cry, Jesus.” Reed watches in fascination as Hank pulls the Android against him in a one armed hug, and in turn, the Android shamelessly kicks off his shoes and pulls himself onto the bed, curling against the old man’s good side and burying his face in his chest.

“W-what? What in the fuck is it doing?” he asks, genuinely shocked.

“It is a he, Reed. Now isn’t the time for your bullshit.”

“I-I’m… Sorry,” Gavin mumbles. “Maybe I’ll just go.”

“Don’t. Just… Sit down, Reed. Stop talking trash and bullshit for five seconds and breathe. I’m sore and I’m hungry and it’s not even five in the morning, so I want to sleep.”

Connor is already closing his eyes, falling into stasis with the assurance of Hank’s steady, slow heartbeat. When he is asleep, Reed says, “I didn’t know you two were that… close.”

“Yeah, well… we’re housemates now. To be honest, he is… well, he is my boy.”

“Your boy, huh?”

“Not what I meant. I mean, my boy, my son. My family.”

Gavin nods thoughtfully, silent for the rest of the morning.

* * *

_Reed_

* * *

Gavin wakes up after noon. The plastic— _Connor—_ is awake, but now and is sitting crosslegged on the couch, fully engulfed in an embrace by another android—a female, one of those Eden models. She’s pretty with long, sandy-blonde-brown hair down to her waist and honey-colored eyes. The android girl is wearing tan fingerless gloves and a cropped, black tee shirt, with jeans riddled with holes and Timberland work boots. The jeans and the minimal top outline her body beautifully. He opens his mouth to say something, but the fucking cannon shoved into the waist of her jeans makes him think more carefully. She’s probably the type that has knives and mini guns strapped to every inch of her body, and he doesn’t want to die today.

He goes with “Uhm… Hey there.”

“Hey there human cheesedick,” she says cheerfully. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Gavin snorts. “Thanks. How’s the old bastard?”

“Fine, grumpy because they won’t let him eat solids yet. Apparently Hank eats… well, like a tank.” Beside the girl, Connor snorts, laughing hard.

The sight of him laughing makes something strange happen in Gavin’s chest. Is he… _glad…_ the plastic prick is happy? He is actually happy for the plastic asshole.

He is totally going soft.

But then again, hearing Hank call that thing his family is making him reevaluate a lot of things. Maybe it was just a plastic asshole, but people everywhere find the things to be useful and friendly even when they didn’t deserve someone to be friendly to them. If Androids were people, they’d be much better people than humans.

Maybe that’s why Gavin hates the damn things so much.

“What’s on your weird mind?”

“You don’t know me,” Gavin says testily, insulted by the android’s attitude.

“I know enough.”

“Well if you must also know, I’m thinking that if Hank likes the whole plastic people bit, maybe you aren’t so bad.”

“Huh-fucking-zzah.”

“But you’re kind of bitchy, I might be wrong.”

The girl shrugs. “Only to people I don’t like.”

Again, Connor snorts. It earns him a smack on the back of the head, which he reaches back to rub, his expression somewhere between a wince and a smile.

“Shut it you,” she says, and he shrugs, looking innocent.

“I was simply agreeing with your statement, North.”

She huffs.“You know what, you’re right. Connor is a prick.”

“Hey, hey. There’s no name-calling here, kids. North. I trust you’re behaving.”

“Yes, behaving, but very badly.” Connor stands up and moves toward the bed, his smile dropping into a concerned frown. “How do you feel?” he whispers.

As the girl, North also stands and is greeted warmly by Hank, Gavin realizes that this whole interaction only served to prove his point. They were _normal_. In fact, they reminded him of himself with his friends and his family when he was their age. More androids walk in—Robot Jesus comes in and places a gentle hand on Hank’s. Behind him, another one that is probably also a male Eden model, come to think, comes in and sits at the foot of the bed. The last member of what he realizes are all of the Jericho leadership stands by the door for a moment before coming in and pulling up several seats. They all ask after Hank’s pain and recovery, and he grumbles about a bunch of android brats for kids, “Except for Josh because he’s the only reasonable one here.”

Markus protests with a chuckle and a smile that is downright sparkling—fucking charming androids, he wants to hate them all, but he can’t.

After he watches a moment, he ducks outside, unwilling to be affected by this scene anymore. He had known that Hank was a doting, kind father, he’d seen it with his little boy, Cole, before he’d died. Still, seeing him embrace the Plastic Detective, stroke his hair and rub his back like he’s comforting his child while tiredly making conversation with the others makes Gavin’s chest clench.

He heaves himself into a chair in the waiting room after fetching a mediocre cup of coffee.

“Oh, Reed, you’re just the person I want to see.”

Gavin looks up to find Captain Fowler looming over the seat next to his. “Do you mind?”

Gavin shrugs. “Make yourself at home.”

“Let me cut to the chase,” Fowler says as he sits down, “Hank isn’t going to be clear for duty for at least three months.”

“What?!” Gavin’s alarm makes him louder than normal. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s going to have to do several weeks of physical therapy and then pass the PT test again to get his badge back, and you’ve seen the kind of shape he was in before all of this. You’re going to go to DC with him and everyone else. You’ll be the official DPD coordinator for police protection while they’re away. Hank will not be active on the job and might not even get down to DC.”

Gavin sighs. “I don’t really have another way out of this, do I?”

Fowler snorts. “Nope. You’re next in line by seniority. I’d give you the Uncle Ben line  about responsibility, but it’s not necessary. I know you’ll make the DPD proud.”

“I’ll do my best, Sir,” Gavin says dully.

Good people or not, Andoids always manage to find a way to overcomplicate his life and he hates them dearly for it.

Well, except for that bitchy android girl. He doesn’t _really_ hate her…

...that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks for sticking around. let me know what you thought about this chapter, drop a kudos if you like. the next chapter is ready to post so I'm gonna do that right now. y'all get two for the price of one today :D 
> 
> y'all rock
> 
> <3Daisy


	10. memories and stories that are told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Connor and the gang can finally say goodbye to Ellis.  
> 2\. Connor gets to see various memories of Ellis.  
> HARD TISSUE WARNING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably an emotional minefield, so just proceed with caution everyone. feel free to scream or cry down at the bottom, I have tissues and hugs for those who need it.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

Planning a funeral for a murdered android turns out to be a lot of work.

The release of Ellis’s body became a legal and media circus. Josh works overtime releasing statements and setting up television appearances in order to use the media circus to win favor from the public. Connor has to go on a news station and tell the reporter about the loss of one of his closest friends and what they hoped to accomplish together in Congress.

Grieving on television rubs Markus the wrong way, but Josh and North assure him that it’s necessary to put pressure on the legal system, which asserted that, until the law changes, Ellis’s body is evidence and need to be processed and disposed of accordingly, which means that under the current system the only ones that can claim him are his former owners, which have gone out of the city and don’t care about him to attempt to take him back.

Markus was arguing that Ellis is a person, and that his friends and family deserve to give him a proper send off, and that his parts should be salvaged for reuse on injured Androids. He also argues that the junkyards full of the mangled corpses of his kind poison the soil and with leaking thirium and take up precious needed landfill space for actual garbage, and Ellis would never want his remains to become harmful to the environment. They push for a responsible disposal of what’s left of their friend on behalf of the environment as well as their friends, calling into question regulations about the disposal of Android corpses.

Environmentalists jump right on this, of course, protesting the improper disposal of Androids, and between them and the Android rights activism that has sprung up all over the country, Markus finally has enough juice to ask a judge for a court order. The lawyers bicker back and forth in a courtroom all day, but in the end, the judge allows Markus to take Ellis’s body back to Jericho. 

The news is met by a million more headlines, and the murder of three Androids by the Human Element.

Finally, a week of chaos after Ellis’s death, Markus is finally standing in front of his mangled remains. Connor is standing next to him, face blank. Across from them, Jason is in tears, his fingers threaded between Ellis’s. North has both arms around his shoulders, her face also shiny from tears in the dim light.

Ellis looks truly dead, now. Thirium stains the side of his face, where there is a mangled dent in his skull that stretches from his shattered eye all the way behind his ear. Sharp, jagged edges of plastic and metal reveal a section of his processor, the black metal of it dented, scratched and shattered in some places. His other eye is peacefully closed, and his face isn’t how Connor remembers seeing it at the crime scene, still horrified at his own death. Instead, he has a peacefully neutral expression, almost like he could be in stasis.

Jason is holding his good hand, but his other is mangled, fingers broken and wrist twisted, forearms covered in gashes and crushed in some places where he clearly tried to defend himself from blows. His legs are also covered in defensive wounds, but the worst is his chest and abdomen. Markus can’t look at it at first, he looks away, his eyebrows pulling together.

Connor grits his teeth and looks. He _looks_ at his friend without the harsh crime scene lights, without all the blood. He _looks_ at the results of his choices, of his actions. He _looks_ at all the ways his actions inflicted torment on his friend. He doesn’t shy away from it or let himself be repulsed. He lets the guilt try to crush him… sometimes he hopes it can.

He traces his finger along the jagged edges of where his thirium pump and regulator were crudely carved out of his chest. One of them cuts his finger, and he watches the blue spread over that sharp edge and over his hand with disinterest. It closes quickly, leaving a single streak of blue across his palm and dripping into the gaping hole where Ellis’s heart should be.

North is the one that speaks. “This is what’s left of our friend,” she whispers. She sounds angry, and Connor is angry too.

Markus shakes his head. “You’re wrong. We have everything about Ellis that matters. We have his smiles, his advice, his calm voice. We have his eyes and we have his great friendship. We have him here. I know it’s not the same… I know it won’t ever be the same. But he isn’t going to just fade into oblivion. We are keeping the very best parts of him _here._ ”

Connor finally leans into Markus, letting his tears be absorbed by Markus’s shirt. “I should have done better,” he whispers. “I should have given you more warning, I should have—”

“You did everything you could.” It’s Jason that speaks up now, his voice wavering. “You tried to warn us, you told Markus and North what to get us to keep us safe. You helped with the investigation. You only met us on the street for a couple short weeks, and you became better friends to us than we could have asked for. _Thank you._ ”

Connor dips his head, not being able to meet Jason’s eyes. Jason’s thanks mean the world to him, but Ellis’s death is just another tick on a long list of failures for Connor, compounding his grief until it presses on his chest in a way he can’t explain.

Markus rubs his back and takes a shaky breath. “It’s time.”

North and Connor have the same reaction: they both step back. Jason stubbornly stands still for a moment, his hands balled into fists. “Before we do this, I just…” He stops talking to keep himself from sobbing, taking several deep breaths. “I want to _keep_ him. Does that… Make sense? I don’t want us to just tear him apart for parts without it having any meaning.”

“It has meaning,” Markus says quietly. “He’ll be giving life to the Androids that have parts of him. He’ll be living with them, in some way.”

“What are you asking, Jason?”

“I want us all to have a part of him, not just some strangers. They—they can’t know who he was or what he did for us, you know? They won’t know.”

North takes a piece of his processor and strings she pulls from her shirt. Then she ties it around her neck like a choker. it looks like a simple, tiny black square, that’s all. But each of them sees the symbolism in literally carrying a piece of his memory around everywhere. Eventually Markus does the same, using a leather chord he always has on his wrist, and takes another piece and hands it to Jason, and another piece and hands it to Connor. They each find a way to wear it with what they’ve got on them; Connor adds it to a tiny keyring and puts the keyring on a piece of the hem of his shirt, which he twists into a kind of rope and ties around his wrist. Jason does the same, tying the makeshift rope around his neck in a long sort of chain.

After another moment, Markus says, “Let’s get to it, okay?”

After that, disassembling Ellis is quick. They sort the parts quickly and in complete silence, arranging for them to be sent to New Jericho B for use in their repair station.there are very few parts, by comparison, that are too damaged for use. His processor, of course, one of his eyes, his thirium pump whch is straight up missing, and some components in his abdomen. His arms and legs are also too damaged. They take those damaged parts and lock them away. Tonight, after the memorial, Jason will take them to a place of his choosing and bury them. He asked to do it alone, and everyone obliged without argument.

Markus watches his friends and his lover catalogue the parts, each of them compiling a list of everything that is going to be recycled. The list is for New Jericho B and also for the court order, which ruled that everything they reuse has to be reported. Jason looks numb, his blue eyes blank and his face slack and emotionless. North just seems determined to get through this, moving as fast as she can without damaging anything or seeming disrespectful. Her face is too neutral, and Markus is sure she will find a way to grieve on her own, privately.

It’s Connor’s expression that breaks his heart the most. He looks solemn, but his shoulders sag with each biocomponent that he packs away, until it looks like he can’t even hold up his own weight anymore.

_Connor?_

_I cannot help feeling like I failed him,_ he answers eventually. _I wish I had found a way to prevent this._

_I know that if you could have, you would not have hesitated. So does Jason. Connor, you don’t work for the police department anymore. You’re just a civilian doing the best he can to keep the ones he cares about happy and safe. There isn’t anything you could have done._

_I should have tried harder to be rehired. I should have studied Hank’s cases better, tried to find more clues. He asked me for help more than once, and I pointed him in the right direction but that was all._

_It was all you could do, Connor._

_Why does that feel like a lie?_

_Because of who you are, Connor. Your personality and your programming both dictate that when something doesn’t end how you wanted it to it is because of a fialure on your part. But we both know that you’re more than just programming now. You did not fail a mission, you did not come up empty in your job. You did everything you could within the limits you were given, and this is not your fault._

Connor pulls himself against his boyfriend and buries his face on his shoulder. _I want you to be right._

Markus snorts. _Of course_ _I’m right. I’m… what is it that Hank calls me…? Robot Jesus? I’m Robot Jesus, I’m always right._

Connor’s eyes widen as he pulls away to look up at Markus, utterly incredulous. _Seriously?_  

Markus’s lips pull up on one side in a tiny smirk. _In fact, if it could make you feel better, I as Robot Jesus absolve you of your guilt._

Connor rolls his eyes. _That is unnecessary._ But a tiny smile is still pulling at his lips, and he eventually gives into the smile, albeit reluctantly.

 _Ha!_ Markus grins his triumph, his finger tracing over Connor’s lip. _But it made you smile._

 _It did. Thank you,_ he says, melting into Markus’s embrace again.

* * *

  _Connor_

* * *

Remembering how he’d comforted Connor before, Markus had planned the memorial service to be simple. People that knew him would gather in New Jericho B in the downstairs level of the old church, which had once been fashioned into a sort of entertainment hall, complete with tables, chairs, a small stage, and a kitchenette.

Connor arrives early, watching from the back of the room as several androids file in. He sees Tim, looking sour as always, wearing one of Hank’s old outfits. More Androids from the original clean-up crew files in too: Ithaca, Stephen, Will, and Emma, followed by Cory. There are other Androids from the grounds of New Jericho B, where Ellis often spent time volunteering. More Androids file in before North, Jason, Markus, and Josh arrive.

Jason throws his arms around each of Connor’s friends from when Hank was gone, and they squeeze him tightly in sympathy, offering him words of comfort.

Eventually people stop filing in, and the Jericho crew start the memorial service. About thirty people of all ages are here, and in the back of the room, Markus has allowed a reporter to observe for a story. She doesn’t have camera people or anything like that with her, just an audio recorder.

It’s very informal, typical for something Android related she supposes. They aren’t all dressed in black or dressed in suits and dresses. Instead, they are dressed casually, wearing ripped jeans, plain tee shirts, or other casual clothes… and all of them are ripped in one way or another.

The one called Connor, she notes, is wearing a blue tee shirt with its hem torn off and dark jeans. She had seen him on the news this week, tried to contact him. He’s supposed to be higher up in the organization, and she makes a note to ask about what it means for their leadership to have been so brutally murdered by a hate group, and especially after said group had made enough threats and slaughtered enough Androids to warrant all of them having police and FBI security details. She wonders, maybe, if it was an inside job.

For his part, Connor is steeling self or the emotional overload he knows is about to ensue. The group pulls up chairs to sit in a large circle. Connor sits between Markus and Jason, and Jason is in between him and North. Josh is offering his support to Markus, and next to Josh, several Android men and women sit, sometimes with children. 

One of those children is the first to stand once Markus explains how the proceeding is going to go. She’s a YK500 with her appearance altered to have darker skin and wild, dark brown curls which are braided against her head in cris-crossing rows and pinned into a high pony tail with colorful clips. Connor identifies her as _YK500 number 368-192-848. Designation: Imani Saunders. In the care of AP700 number 480-899-802, Designation: Amaya Reading._

Connor interfaces with her first, trying to keep his face neutral and friendly as not to frighten the girl. 

_Was Ellis your friend? He was my friend too._

Imani gives Connor a moment in the rain, where she and several other children (Android children left behind by evacuees and placed in ‘foster care’ with adults in New Jericho A) are outside when it starts to pour. Instead of running them inside, Ellis uses the moment to teach them about how rain and clouds work, giggling with them about the puddles.

_“And how do you think all that water got all the way in the sky, huh?”_

_Imani and the others are shrieking and giggling until he speaks, and then they look up at him with interest. “Tell us Uncle Ellis!”_

_“Yeah, tell us how!”_

_“I already know.”_

_More giggles ensue as Ellis’s eyes widen comically. “What? You already know? Who told you? It’s supposed to be a secret!”_

_“No it’s not!”_

_THey giggle and joke through an explanation of precipitation cycles and then they scatter to splash in the puddles that form within the gates of the former extermination camp._

Connor smiles. Those kids were Ellis’s heart. Even though he’d been a solid and trustworthy team member of Jericho’s leadership, he’d been set on helping pair abandoned Android children with Nanny/homecare Androids. It had been his passion project and he’d been tangling with the social system during most of his free time.

_Ellis loved you all deeply. Thank you for sharing him with me._

The little girl holds her hand up for Jason next, and his lip wobbles as he touches his palm to hers. Connor sucks in another breath. It takes five minutes of silence before Tim stands up and goes to Jason. They interface in tearful silence for over ten minutes. Connor watches them numbly, but another person wants to share with him, so he turns to her. It’s Ithaca.

 _I can’t believe this is happening,_ she tells him, raising her hand. Her memory is of the last time she saw him, only a couple of days before he died.

_“Hey you!” He gives a happy laugh as he throws his arms around her in a hug. “How are you? I am sorry I never see you around, I’m always busy in Jericho.”_

_“No, it’s okay! How are you, what are you busy doing? Who are all those people with you?”_

_“Oh, heh. They’re FBI agents.”_

_“Wow you have bodyguards now?”_

_Ellis shrugs, grinning mischievously. “The life of the rich and famous, am I right?”_

_“Oh, very funny. Please stay safe, okay?”_

_“Sure, of course. These guys are supposed to be the best of the best, and between them and Connor hooking Markus up with all these non-lethal weapons or whatever, we’re all more than covered.”_

_“Oh, how’s Connor? The fancy deviant hunter guy gone deviant himself.”_

_“He hooked up with Markus a while back and they’ve been working together a lot.”_

_“Ooh, hooked up or *hooked up*?”_

_Ellis laughs. “Both, I think.”_

_“Aww, good for him, I’m glad. Tell him we say hello, okay? And what about Jason, do you still talk to him?”_

_Ellis’s cheeks turn light blue. “Yeah, still talk to Jason.”_

_That makes Ithaca laugh, hard. “Oh, I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! HA! How long?”_

_“Oh, um… It’s not anything official or anything, we’re just talking.” Ellis, normally collected and cool, stumbles through the sentence like a teenaged human with a severe stutter._

_“Just talking, he says. Okay, then. Go ahead, boy.”_

_They talk for a long time before he gets an alert of some sort and has to go, running toward the car, where agents are already holding the door open._

Connor feels himself flush for a second, but he purposely reaches for Markus’s hand. Markus squeezes back immediately, lacing their fingers.

Ithaca arches an eyebrow, smirking. Connor shrugs, and then she wraps her arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “Please stop this,” she begs in his ear. “I don’t want to lose any more of my friends.”

Connor hugs her close with his free arm. “We’re doing everything we can. Please… please be safe. If you find yourself in any uncomfortable situation don’t hesitate to call or come to Jericho, we’ll take care of you.”

More people share various snippets of Ellis over the next hour, but it’s the last person that breaks Connor down because that last person _is_ Jason.

Jason’s face is almost numb by the time he holds up his hand for Connor. Before they interface, Connor pulls him into a tight hug and lets him cry.

 _Ellis treated all of these people like his family,_ Jason says. _He got back the family he lost with his previous owners—not that they were much of a family to begin with, but… but he loved them, and they didn’t love him back. Everyone here loved him back._

 _We still do,_ Connor says, his chest hitching uncomfortably as he tries to prevent sobs. He reaches up his hand again, and Jason connects.

_“Do you ever still think about them?”_

_“Sure. All the time. Mostly I just hope those kids have learned some kindness.” Ellis sighs heavily. “There was someone I was… thinking of bringing to Jericho with me.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“You know that… well, a lot of the androids that were turned in to the camps, and also androids that were abandoned here, they were kids. A lot of child care and home care androids have agreed to raise them, but… there are still so many that need homes…” Ellis gives another heavy sigh. “There was a little boy, he was so pure and happy… I found out that he’d been with his own android caretaker inside the camp, but that She was destroyed before Jericho could free them.”_

_“How afraid he must have been.”_

_Ellis nods. “But strong, and so resilient. I would have loved to give that boy a home.”_

_“You would make a wonderful dad.”_

_Ellis smiles over at Jason, meeting his eyes for an endless moment. “So would you, Jay.”_

_Jay’s entire being flutters at the shortening of his name, and he wishes, rA9 above he wishes, ‘please, please just let him kiss me…’_

_Ellis pulls his fingers through Jason’s dark hair, then down over his defined jaw, a faint smile on his lips. He leans forward, and Jason closes his eyes._

Connor is touched by the memory, remembering what his own first kiss was like, the unexplained electricity between him and Markus when their lips met.

 _He loved you,_ Connor concludes.

_I loved him too. I never got to tell him._

_He knew, I’m sure._

_Just… make sure you get to tell him a lot. That way if… if one of you ever is gone, you both always knew._

Connor’s breaths finally start to release in sobs. _I promise._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof.
> 
> was there anything you would have liked to see or know about Ellis? let me know what you thought of the android funeral process, as it was something i kind of pondered and freaked out over quite a bit. no chapter is set in stone, so if you see something, say something! i can fix or add as things are pointed out to me. 
> 
> oh btdubs, the title for this chapter came from a song called 'goodbye' by a band called Plankeye.
> 
> y'all are the best
> 
> <3Daisy


	11. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. After the memorial, Connor and Markus comfort each other bodily. ***SMUT ALERT***  
> 2\. Markus did... what? What did he conclude? Well he concluded that he should try again. with enthusiasm.  
> 3\. Some time later, Connor visits Lieutenant Dad in the hospital, and they get to talking about their own experiences with loss and grief. Lieutenant Dad is a very good dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a ***SMUT ALERT*** for this chapter. a brief summary is this: the boys are tired and they just got home from a funeral, and all they want to do is fuck, so that's what they do. they have a great time. if you don't want to read about Connor and Markus getting it on, you can skip to the section labeled "markus".

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

They get to talk at night time. Connor is watching Markus slip out of his funeral clothes until he’s wearing nothing but his white tee shirt again. They’re silent for a while as they undress, each processing the day and their emotions as best they can. Eventually, Connor says, _you were right. We have him with us always._

_And you should always feel free to come to me about him, okay?_

_You as well, Mark._ Connor lets himself melt into Markus’s supportive embrace. _Thank you for fighting for him as hard as you did._

_We all fought for him, Connor. You did, Josh and Jason… everyone. He was our friend._

_And Jason’s lover._

_You got that impression too, did you?_

_It was quite obvious._

_Hmm._ Markus is looking at him with a hot kind of darkness in his eyes. Connor equally squirms in embarrasment under the intense gaze, but teases a little as he shifts, following Markus’s movements with his eyes and shifting accordingly. _Someday, people will see our memories of each other and say the same._

Connor smiles, wondering if the emotion bubbling inside of him can be considered giddiness. He has never been _giddy_ before. He decides that he likes it.

_How is Hank progressing?_

_He is anxious to go home. However, his situation has complicated itself due to an infection in the wound. He had to have surgery to have the wound reopened and cleaned. The surgery was successful, but his recovery has been delayed significantly._

_Oh thank goodness—that’s what has been keeping you busy, then._

_Yes, he has been receiving intravenous antibiotics for the past two days. The accompanying fever made him… it made him extremely uncomfortable, and now this surgery has complicated things again._

_I’m sorry to hear that,_ Markus says kindly, finally undressed for bed. He slips into bed next to Connor with a happy sigh. _I’ve missed you, Bright Eyes._

Connor successfully fights away the urge to roll his eyes at the nickname. _I have missed you too, Mark._

Markus smiles a little bit. _What did North say to you in the hospital the other day? She had mentioned she planned to speak to you about something, but was very cagey about why._

Connor pulls himself against his boyfriend, tangling their arms and legs in a full-body embrace. _She apologized for her behavior… she says she still loves you and she is affected when she sees us together. However, she recognizes that she gets carried away, and she apologized to me for the disrespect. In fact, she hopes that we remain friends._

_That was it?_

Connor shrugs. _Sure. What do you mean? Was that not enough?_

_It just… seems like she let it all go too easily. To be honest, I think it is a bit suspicious._

Connor shrugs again, nosing along Markus’s jaw with purpose now. _I do not want to talk about North anymore._

Markus lifts his chin a little bit to give Connor more room, and Connor trails happy, teasing kisses all over his throat, crawling over his body and holding him in place by straddling his hips.

_Oh, it’s like that, huh? You can just demand a change of topic with your lips and your hips now?_

_I find it to be incredibly effective._

Markus laughs, giving in to Connor’s insistent kisses and nips. He lets Connor have his way with him for a moment before sitting up and flipping them over, returning the hot kisses all over Connor’s neck and shoulders. His fingers sweep over his chest and stomach with purpose, until they curl against Connor’s hip. 

 _I find that these hips need to be taught some manners._ And then Markus moves, his lips following the trail his hand had just blazed. He takes his time lapping at the skin there. He finds that he likes the way Connor gasps when his lips touch certain spots on his stomach, just below his navel and in the space between it and his hip bones, where a sharp V trails down to his already-weeping cock. 

Intellectually, Markus knows that there isn’t really any reason other than aesthetic that androids were designed with a navel, but right now he’s sure that they were designed to be touched, to give androids the human sensation of erogenous zones.

He nips at those small spots with his teeth, grazing them over Connor’s synthetic skin. Connor gasps his name over and over, his voice crackling and glitching.

Acting on a whim, Markus lifts his fingers to Connor’s lips. _Suck,_ he tells him. 

Connor immediately wraps his tongue around his fingers, lapping and sucking, hollowing his cheeks and pulling on his fingers with his mouth. He sucks with wanton moans and pleading whimpers that go straight to Markus’s cock.

With a smirk, Markus gently takes Connor’s cock in his other hand and guides it to his lips. His tongue mimicks Connor’s as it works up and down his fingers, his own tongue tracing along the underside of his shaft, sucking with the right amount of pressure. Connor whimpers, his whole body tensing and trembling witht he sensation, and Markus dedicates his other hand to holding Connor’s legs apart.

When Markus pulls his fingers away from his mouth, Connor protests the loss immediately. _Calm,_ Markus says, smug. Connor doesn’t think it’s fair that these sensations don’t drive Markus as wild as they do to him, but he lets that thought slip away when he feels the dampness of his own artificial saliva on Markus’s fingers, pressed against his entrance. Connor holds his breath, waiting to be breached, remembering the sensation from the first time they ever made love.

_Mark…_

Markus teases him relentlessly, circling Connor’s entrance with his fingers and then barely dipping in, only to return to pressing and circling. Connor whines, his fingers clutching at the sheets rhythmically. _Markus, put your fingers inside me already!_

 _You’re so impatient._ The fingers are gone, and Connor lifts his head to watch Markus—or rather, to glare at him for stopping. Markus gives a little smirk, lifting his mouth away from Connor’s cock, a line of spit still sticking between them. Then, Markus’s _tongue_ is _taking him apart._

Unable to help himself, Connor bucks, trying to grind his hips against Markus’s face with a whine that makes his vocal processor glitch again. Markus arches the eyebrow over his blue eye, putting his hand flat on Connor’s stomach. _Hold. Still._

 _I c-can-not,_ Connor pleads.

 _I bet you can,_ Markus teases. He smiles in satisfaction when he feels Connor attempt to lock himself in place and sees him gritting his teeth as he does his best to hold still. _See? You love this too much not to._

Connor lifts his head to stare pointedly again, and Markus smirks against him, flicking his tongue over the fluttering hole, and leaving Connor gasping again. By the time he pushes in a finger, Connor is a whining mess.

He works his finger in, twisting it and curling it around, adding another, and then eventually a third. Connor’s whole body quivers as he tries, he _really does try_ , to hold still. He’s so _close,_ though, and he’s having trouble overriding his body’s movements, and then all he can do is scream into his teeth when Markus presses against him somewhere deep and _sensitive,_ and fuck, Connor can’t take it anymore. He comes hard, crying out as his whole body finally does what it had been told ages ago and locks down, reducing him to barely-there shivers. 

 _You’re gorgeous like this,_ Markus says, running his hands all over Connor’s inner thighs, over his hips, up over his stomach, helping him come down from the frazzling overload to his body and probably his processors.

Connor waits until he can move, and then he presses on Markus’s shoulder asking him to sit up. When he does, Connor shifts himself between Markus’s legs and takes his entire cock into his mouth without preamble. 

Markus chokes, and his hands fly into Connor’s hair, pulling through the soft strands and guiding his head as he bobs up and down. _Connor…_

 _Now you have to hold still,_ Connor says cheekily, and Markus sighs. He should have known that Connor would find a way to turn this around on him.

Eventually they shift so that Markus is laying back, mostly because the tremors in his spine don’t allow him to properly hold himself up anymore. Connor sucks him with abandon, feeling along his shaft with his tongue and dipping it into the little, spongy entrance at the top. Markus bucks, and Connor tsks, letting go of the thick, leaking member. Markus wants to protest, but he doesn’t. He’s rewarded with a hot, wet stripe being licked right on the middle of his sac. Connor takes his time exploring Markus’s balls, first gently sucking one into his mouth, and then the other. The skin around them is remarkably soft, and the way Markus is gasping, it’s incredibly sensitive as well.

A male human’s anatomy serves the purpose of reproduction naturally, but Connor doesn’t really know what the purpose of replicating it on androids was. Still, from what little he understands, they are remarkably similar and he is enjoying it immensely. He switches to touching them, hefting them in his hands and gently fondling them while he starts to work Markus’s cock with his tongue again. It twitches against the inside of his cheeks, and he hollows them to suck him.

Connor teases that soft slit right at the top of his dick again, and Markus’s breaths rattle in his throat, his vocal processor glitching. Connor swallows every drop Markus gives him, lapping up what escaped his lips and dribbled back along the shaft and swallowing that too. Connor grins as he curls up next to his lover. That’s when he notices the notification waiting in the corner of his vision:

ANALYSIS ATTEMPTED FROM UNATTACHED BIOCOMPONENT. ALLOW? __Y  __N

* * *

_Markus_

* * *

“I wasn’t aware that I had done—I mean, I _can’t_ do that. That’s _your_ programming, there’s no way I could find a way to utilize it.”

“Yes but it clearly says that your tongue attempted to analyze my… m-my…” Connor flushes. His cheeks turn light, light blue and his ears darken in a way that is adorably human.

Markus smirks.  “Perhaps I did attempt to analyze it. I tasted it very thoroughly, even.”

Flustered, Connor protests, “but with my programming?!”

Markus sighs, feeling the buzzkill very keenly. “Alright, you’re right. This is… a strange turn of events.”

“We will have to contact CyberLife to see if it can stop.”

“What? Why do you want it to stop?”

Connor sighs, mad at himself for accidentally making Markus defensive. _I love you and I trust you,_ he says carefully. _But you can see why having access to my analysis programs could be confusing? Also, I am not sure about you, but I am running at a higher processing power than normal, I may have to divert some usage in order to maintain it without overloading._

Markus huffs. _You’re right,_ he acquiesces. _With everything going on, I’m not sure when we’ll have time to make an appointment with Cyberlife before DC anyway. Think you can manage?_

Connor snorts. _Can you?_

Markus pretends that he’s still tasting something very thoughtfully for a second and then winks. _I don’t know. Maybe I should try again. Just to make a more informed assessment. Don’t you think?_

_That is not a good—_

_Yeah, I’m gonna try again._

Connor can’t help the smile he cracks, even though he tries to keep his expression neutral. _Though I appreciate your enthusiasm—_

 _I appreciate_ your _enthusiasm. Very, very much. Would you like to see?_

Connor gives up. Lays back down.

With enthusiasm.

* * *

_Hank_

* * *

Hank hates being here alone.

The last time he was in a hospital alone was four years ago, contemplating the death of his very reason for living. He doesn’t like having nothing to do but stare blankly at the wall.

_He opened his eyes, but exhaustion had settled within every cell in his body. He didn’t resist it, he just closed his eyes again. Oblivion seems like a worthy alternative to exhaustion and pain._

_His eyes bolt open again. “Cole? Where is Cole?!” He struggles to sit up. Maybe someone brought him in while he’d been out. He looks over at the ridiculously uncomfortable couch, hoping to spot him. Then the chair. Then the door. “N-nurse? Anyone? Where is my son?”_

_Eventually someone walks in, and he asks the lady, desperately, “Please, can you just tell me where my kid is?”_

_The nurse’s face stays too neutral as she says, “let me check with the nurses’ station, Mr. Anderson.”_

_Cold dread coils in his stomach, but his stomach feels too hot and sour. “Please,” he begs. “Just tell me.”_

_She doesn’t look at him as she checks his vitals. When she’s done, she wheels her cart back toward the door. She turns back to him and says, “I’m… so sorry, Mr. Anderson.”_

_That’s all he has to hear._

“…Hank? Are you… are you alright?” When he blinks himself back to the present, it’s Connor’s brown eyes peering intently at his face, his hand resting gently on Hank’s good arm.

Hank just lifts his arm and motions Connor closer, too tired to explain his dark memory. As Connor tucks himself against Hank’s body, he frowns. “Are you cold? Your body temperature is .7 degrees lower than your normal average.”

“Oh—I…”

Connor focuses on his system and slowly raises his body temperature slightly, as high as he can without being uncomfortable or overheating.

Hank sighs in relief, but then he frowns. “Wait, you can just… do that?”

“Sure. It is not harmful when I control it. My systems rarely overheat on their own, as that would signify a component or processing failure.”

“I bet they do around Markus.”

Connor’s cheeks tinge blue. “It is possible,” he acquesces. The teasing starts after that, but he stays quiet, taking comfort from the normalcy of Hank’s eternal sarcasm and bad jokes.

Eventually Hank says, “What’s on your mind, Con?”

He answers, “Ellis.”

Hank rubs his back gently. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“I have never experienced grief before.”

It’s statements like this that make Hank remember that Connor isn’t an average person. He’s probably just like a child in the body of an adult fucking robot, and that has to be more confusing for him than it was for anyone else. “Well… It sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Does it ever go away?”

Hank frowns. “More like you get used to it.”

“Did you ever ‘get used to it’ as you say?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t very good at handling it. Connor, that boy was my everything, he was what I lived for. _My son_ was my oxygen. When he died, it felt like I did too, and every time I remembered that he was gone, I felt a little bit like I was dying again. You ever get used to dying over and over?”

Connor flinches. “Never. It is disorienting and exhausting.”

Hank nods. “Exactly.”

Connor looks absolutely miserable. “I am sorry for the loss of your son,” he whispers. “Truly sorry.”

“Thank you,” Hank answers quietly. Then he says, “You know that…” he pauses, not really quite sure how to say what he thinks.

Thankfully Connor looks up at him and smiles. “I know, Hank. I love you too.”

Hank tightens his arm around Connor, and the two lay in silence for a while. “I never got to hold Cole like this, you know? But this… this comes pretty close. Thank you for willing to be my son after everything.”

Connor shrugs. “Did you know it was you that started my deviancy?”

“What?”

“Sometimes, helping you, cooperating with you went against my commands, or at least… at least they were a higher priority than you. But more than once I chose to be with you or help you instead. I have thought about this many times. The first time I ever went against my orders was for you.”

“I appreciate that more than you know.”

“I do not know if Ellis ever had a human like you. I am fortunate—Markus is fortunate. We had humans that taught us that we could coexist. Perhaps if that had not been the case, our revolution might have cause far more bloodshed.  Even still, I wish more of us had a father like you.”

Hank’s throat tightens. “You’re makin me blush, kid.” Connor chuckles, but Hank can tell he is still sad. “Tell, me,” he whispers. “I can take it. Tell me all of it.”

Connor takes a slow breath. “I met Ellis  because there was a human assaulting him. I stopped the assault ain progress and we went looking for a place to spend the night. He was always very calm, very reasonable. He reminded me of myself in that way, I mean—of how I used to be when I was just a machine. His presence comforted me, greatly.”

“Interesting meeting someone in deviancy that is how you were as a machine.”

“He was the one that showed me that being deviant is simply being myself. Now I feel as if there is an enormous guiding force in my life that is simply missing. I am unsure how to proceed without him.”

“That happens,” Hank says softly. “Just… remember this. Someone like him would want you to do the very best for yourself. He would want you to do what you feel you have to.”

“He was very encouraging. I do miss him.”

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“Jason is distraught still. He often disappears for long periods of time without communication. It disturbs me, given the attack on Ellis. I do try to track him down sometimes but… he never desires to be found. Sometimes I think he wants to die.”

“I understand that feeling very well.”

“If Jason disappears, the person who knew Ellis best will be gone. What will become of the memory of Ellis?”

“You still have him in yours, kid.”

“I understand, but it is not the same. I am afraid of what would happen if everyone just forgot about him.”

“You’re an android, that’s literally physically impossible for you.”

“Perhaps.”

“I struggle with remembering Cole’s voice. Sometimes I watch videos of when he was around just to remember what he was like laughing or telling me something. Even what he was like when he cried. I know what it’s like to be afraid of forgetting someone.”

“How do we move forward as a team without our team member? It is so difficult to just continue like everything is the same. It is _not_ the same, our friend is _dead and gone._ I cannot make myself act normally, and I don’t think the other can either, but they try too much to do it, and it makes me… it makes me irritable.”

“More reasons why androids are more like humans than we thought.”

Connor rolls his eyes, but his expression is something like fury. “I want them to acknowledge his absence,” he hisses. “I want them to…”

“To what? Stop everything you’ve worked so hard for? Do you think Ellis would want that?”

Connor deflates. “No,” he says, and there are tears in his eyes. “But it is impossible to have an opinion now.”

Hank swallows. “I don’t know what to say. I know it’s hard to just… go back to standard operating procedure. But Ellis would want you to beat this. He would want you guys to be successful so now more than ever, you guys have to put your heads down and get to work. I know Markus is being as sensitive as he can, but he does have to get things done.”

“You are right, Hank. But I…”

“It still feels too soon.”

“It does.”

“There isn’t much time left. The final preparations are going down now, right?”

“Yes. We are getting ready for the Congressional hearings.”

“Then make sure that Ellis’s death matters to _them._ ”

Connor glances up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Those androids that have been dying, they haven’t gotten much press. We’ve been working the cases as best we can, but with the laws the way there are, are hands are tied. With these Congressional hearings, you have to make sure that every one of those people matter to them, so that they can see what the loss of them does to you, so that they can see that you grieve the way humans grieve. Ellis, being a member of your team, is the most public figure among the dead, and since you all knew him so personally, you have to tell them what this all means. Tell them that you’re in pain, and that having to move on without him is sobering and dark. Tell them _what you’re feeling._ That’s the only way they’ll know that you are alive.”

Connor thinks about this for a long time, his processor trying to file the ideas that Hank has voiced. He sends the conversation to Markus for them to discuss later on.

“Hank?”

“Yeah, kid.”

“Do you ever wonder if… I mean, do you ever think that you’re glad Cole is gone?”

Hank frowns, trying not to be offended. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if we fail this mission, we will not be given our freedom and the destruction of our kind will proceed as ordered. I am… I am glad that Ellis would not be around to see such a bleak outcome. And I am glad that they will not be able to destroy him.”

“You can’t think like that, kid,” Hank says soothingly. “You’re gonna do this. You can do this. You’re so close, I can practically taste it. He would love to be here to see you win freedom for everyone. If you did fail, Ellis would hurt for you and with you like the rest. He was part of your team.”

“I know. But… he did not deserve this, that is all.”

“No one did.”

“Hank?”

“Hey,” he answers.

“Do you think that we can… be successful?”

Hank smiles. “No. I know that you will be. Keep at it, kid. It’ll get easier, I promise.”

“When are you being released?” Connor asks, thankfully changing the subject.

“Probably sometime after you leave for DC next week.  They’ve been giving me therapy and stuff. I promise I’m improving. I’m not gonna croak on you, kid.”

Connor’s eyes water, and he pulls himself tighter against Hank. “Okay,” he whispers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus my life has been complicated lately. I APOLOGIZE for taking so long to finish this and upload it. Hopefully things get more normal around here and I can do this fairly often again.
> 
> let me know, as always, how you feel, what you think is gonna happen, that you hate it, that you love, it, whatever you want in the comments down there. drop a kudos if you like, and keep on being fucking awesome.
> 
> y'all rock  
> <3Daisy


	12. in the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. the flight to DC begins lightheartedly but doesn't stay that way.  
> 2\. Markus is starting to get... suspicious.  
> 3\. North of all people finds herself comforting Connor.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

They aren’t in an airport like normal. They are all brought by car to a private air strip. All of their luggage is carefully inspected and weighed, and then each of North, Jason, Connor, Markus, Josh, and Gavin’s weapons are catalogued and stored away—even though it’s a private flight, the use of any weapon is reserved only for on duty federal agents, two of which will be escorting them.

They have to wait an extra ten minutes for North to finish cataloguing all her things, and that makes Connor chuckle, as even he has been done for several minutes now.

His laughter makes North scowl, and bickering ensues.

“What are you even wearing anyway?” she hisses at him, eyeing his gray hoodie, plain, black cotton joggers, and running shoes.

“I have never been on a flight before, but extensive research showed that it is highly recommended to wear clothing made from breathable, natural fibers such as cotton or wool to prevent overheating as well as minimize burn damage in the case of a fire emergency… this is true for both humans and androids. Likewise, breathable, closed shoes are what is most appropriate for flying, and for the same reasons. What are you wearing, North?” he asks. Her scowl tells him that he will pay dearly for winning this round.

Markus pulls Connor against him and sighs into his hair. _Ready, Con?_

 _Ready, Mark._ Markus likes the way the shortening of his name sounds on Connor’s internal voice. They hold each other in silence for a while, watching the final preparations be made so that they can board, cataloguing the texture of each other’s clothing with their hands and giving each other looks filled with heat and love.

Josh gags. Jason smiles sadly. North huffs. Gavin rolls his eyes.

 _I love you,_ Connor says happily as he sighs against Markus’s chest. _We are actually doing this. We are going before Congress to discuss our freedom. This is all possible because of you. There are not enough words for how brave and wonderful you are._

_No, Connor. This is all possible because of you. The revolution would not have succeeded if you hadn’t come through when you did. You risked your life for all of us, and that is why we are here. Brave, beautiful soul. I knew it when I saw you, you know._

Connor arches an eyebrow. _Before or after I pointed a gun at you and demanded your surrender?_

Markus laughs. _Definitely after. You’re quite terrifying when you choose to be, love._

Connor pouts. _I am programmed that way,_ he protests. _Not my fault._

 _I am not complaining. One day you’ll have to use all your scary detective skills on me,_ Markus teases.  _“I’ll be a criminal and you can interrogate my to your heart’s content._

 _Kinky,_ Connor comments, and Markus bursts into laughter again. _I can use the handcuffs?_

 _Very kinky,_ Markus conceeds. _And yes._

“Eww, what are you two talking about in there?” North whines.

“Who cares? Just get on the fucking plane it’s time to board.” Gavin glares at the gross overly personal displays of affection and cringes at whatever they might have been speaking about in their private channel. “Get a move on!”

“Shall I get you some coffee, Detective Reed?”

“Shut it, tin can. Move your ass.”

Connor shrugs. “I tried.”

Josh takes the initiative and goes first. The others quickly follow suit, settling into the small private plane. They take seats together: Josh across from Jason, who is sitting in the window seat next to North. Gavin sits next to her and tries to strike up conversation, only to get shut down.

Markus and Connor sit next to each other, Markus leaning all over Connor to get a look out the window. The two continue to plaster together, the sexual tension making everyone uncomfortable.

Other agents, three of them, take one table together near the front of the plane.

The last person to board is one they weren’t expecting. Agent Perkins takes a seat across from Connor and smiles casually, checking his phone before sliding it into his pocket. “Markus and Connor. The celebrity couple of the Android Revolution.”

“Uhm…” Connor mutters, not really sure what Perkins’s angle is. “Hello, Agent Perkins,” he settles for. He hopes it sounds more cordial than it does confused.

Markus is decidedly cool. “Agent Perkins.”

“I was commenting with Mr. Markus here that you’ve got quite the life story.”

Connor frowns. “I suppose.”

“Modest, too. Although I suppose you have to be with what all the other androids are saying about you.”

Connor frowns as Markus glares. “Stop it,” Markus says, his voice flat and sort of dangerous.

Perkins looks genuinely surprised and ashamed, but Markus knows he isn’t. “What… You haven’t told him about all the people that ask you why you teamed up with CyberLife’s teacher’s pet?”

Around them, the entire cabin falls eerily silent.

Connor gulps. The rush of emotions coming through his system almost causes an overload: first, he’s disappointed and probably angry at Markus for hiding those things from him. Next, how _dare_ Agent Perkins pretend to insert himself into Connor’s private matters? And also, how _the fuck_ is it okay for Agent Perkins to just so smoothly, so casually, expose him in front of his friends and colleagues like this?

But the one that almost causes the overload is shame, mixed with regret so deep it almost causes him physical pain—well, as close to physical pain as he can feel. _Androids hate him because of what he did. He does not belong with the very people he is trying to save._

_He does not belong with them because he tried to hunt them._

Connor doesn’t see the sky or the clouds, or the expanse of air around them, but he still stares out the window until the seatbelt sign is turned off and Agent Perkins retreats to his seat next to the other agent.

* * *

_Markus_

* * *

The second Perkins stands up, Connor’s voice echoes in his head, seething. _You did not tell me._

Markus rubs his temples. _No, Connor, I didn’t. I didn’t want you to hear any of that nonsense._

_Nonsense? The opinion of the people that you are currently the leader of is nonsense?_

_Absolutely. I have heard plenty, Connor, enough to know and understand that what they were saying about you was nothing more and nothing less than bullshit. Yes, these are my people and I do care for them and their opinions of what the future should be like. But I will not face that future without you in it, and this is_ my _life. I get to choose who is in it and I chose you for a reason. Had I thought such opinions of you were true, I would have chosen someone else._

Connor huffs. _You should have told me._

 _I apologize, Bright Eyes,_ Markus tells him sincerely. _I didn’t mean to make you angry. I only wanted to keep you from getting hurt._

_Ironically, I am more injured by the idea of you keeping such a secret from me._

_Connor…_

_I need a minute._

Markus stares at him, incredulous, but Connor doesn’t budge from staring out the window. _Connor…_

 _I_ said _, I need a minute._

 _Fine._ Markus numbly stands up and takes a seat next to Josh, who is typing something up, probably a press release.

He doesn’t pay attention to it. Instead he stares out at the gleaming white wing of the plane in the sun and the fluffy white wisps or puffs of cloud beneath them. 

He wonders how Perkins came to know about the rumors and opinions about Connor. He supposes that having been in charge of security he hears of any of those things if his team considers them threatening enough, but he doesn’t understand why he would try to retain that information and use it to harm Connor, Markus, or their relationship.

He sends a message to Hank’s phone: _Hi Hank, I hope your recovery is progressing quickly and comfortably. I’m having some concerns about our security regarding Agent Perkins. If it’s possible, can you please have Captain Fowler look into him? We’re going to be away from home with this man, and I want to make sure that we are all going to be safe. Let me know when you have anything._

Satisfied that Hank will pass the message when he has the chance, he leans back in his seat and lets the tapping of Josh’s fingers on the keys let him drift.

* * *

_North_

* * *

 

_You haven’t said much since the flight started._

Connor winces. _I am fine._

 _And I am going to be the first android president of the United States,_ North answers with a snort. _We all heard Perkins being an asshole. Ignore him, will you?_

He grits his teeth. _He is not wrong. Why did none of you tell me that other androids find my presence discomforting?_

North heaves a sigh. _I know I’m about to throw Markus under the bus, but asked us not to. He said, “I spend more time with him and in his head than any of you, and I know that he regrets his actions during the time before he was awakened. I don’t want to hear of anyone else speaking of Connor this way, and I don’t want him to be hurt by those words. You’ll make sure that it stops immediately, and you’ll make sure he never finds out.”_ North smirks. _I got to fuck someone up over it, so that was fun._

 _You need to control your violent urges,_ Connor mumbles.

 _To be honest, I was one of those people. It was… Salt on the wound for me._ She showshim images of times—memories of when she saw  Markus and Connor together and clearly in love, and she projects her thoughts in those moments as well. Those make Connor flinch, and his eyes water.

 _I’m… sorry,_ he pleads.

_No, asshole, I’m not showing you this so that you apologize for being happy. Holy fuck. Look the point of that is, I was jealous. I was jealous because I wanted to be the one at Markus’s side, and I didn’t understand why he chose you. It made me bitter, and it definitely helped me form a very negative opinion of you._

_I know that you know that since then you’ve more than proved yourself to me, to Markus, and to everyone else in Jericho. Those that still want to have those bitter, negative opinions of you have reasons that have more to do with them than you. Much like I did._

Connor sucks in a breath. _But… you… do not anymore?_

_You aren’t the person you used to be. Neither am I. I was a whore, Connor. I was there to be used and abused by whoever paid. No one cared about my thoughts, my malfunctions, my appearance, my state of mind, and I didn’t even know I was allowed to have any of that. I just did what I was programmed to. When I think of those moments, I feel afraid and ashamed. Maybe you weren’t being used bodily like I was. But you were being used too. You did things that you think are horrible and shameful now that you know what it’s like to be alive, and to be allowed to feel things like happiness, fear, shame… I don’t know what you went through, and I don’t think you’ll ever understand what I went through either. But we both understand being used, being expendable. I understand that you were forced too. And when I think of it that way, I can’t… I can’t be angry at your past. No one reasonable can._

Connor blinks slowly, assimilating North’s reasoning carefully. North is an HR400 model, her body and features designed for human pleasure. _Human_ pleasure, not her own. How must it have been for her to experience her own joy for the first time? Her own sadness? Her own fear? He supposes that it wasn’t anything like the way he rationalized his way out of those emotions.

_You know that my memory can be uploaded into another model like me._

North nods.

_I was damaged beyond repair—killed—several times. I remember each time I died and why. I remember that I knew it didn’t matter that I would die. At first it was just because I knew I could be replaced, my memory uploaded. But later on, when Hank began to place value on my life, obeying his orders not to risk myself felt like I did matter. And whether or not I could be replaced became irrelevant. I begun to fear for my life, and then I never felt more worthless. Because even though I did, and even though Hank did, I knew logically that no one else ever would._

_It’s a shitty feeling, isn’t it?_

Connor’s shoulders sag.

_I don’t know if the guilt or the shame ever go away. They haven’t for me. My situation was… different… but I can’t make those feelings go away. All I can do is acknowledge them and tell myself that I did nothing wrong._

_I cannot say the same. What I did was wrong and cruel. I wish I could change it all._

_You’re blaming yourself for things that were out of your control. I know that it doesn’t seem that way, but you were used too. You were forced too. You’re not just a machine, but that’s what they made you be. They did. Not you._

Connor frowns. _Markus believes in me still._

 _He tried to avoid you feeling like this. I promise that’s all he wanted. He wasn’t being secretive or shady. He just wanted to protect you. He honestly loves you._ Connor hears the slight sadness in her voice at the last part, but he can also tell she tried her best to keep it from him.

He decided to disregard it. _I suppose I should apologize,_ he says instead.

North pats his shoulder. _Nah. I told him it was a bad idea to keep it from you. Let him stew for a minute or ten. We’re gonna land soon anyway._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short, sorry!  
> North getting close to Connor even though she's still kinda sore over the whole Markus bit is sweet. but weird. real weird.  
> Perkins is finding out ALL the tea in Jericho wtf
> 
> as always let me know what's good in this chapter, or what needs fixing or editing! also let me know how much you love this with kudos.
> 
> y'all rock and are beautiful  
> <3Daisy


	13. landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Connor and Markus make up (and make out)  
> 2\. Markus observes something... curious.  
> 3\. Gavin decides to put the moves on North. in other news, hell is freezing over and pigs have sprouted wings.

* * *

_Connor_

* * *

 

Connor disregards North’s advice to leave Markus to stew. He decides instead that he’d much rather spend his moments with Markus  _ happy  _ and has already forgiven him for keeping Jericho’s opinion of him a secret.

_ I will just have to prove myself,  _ he decides. It becomes a directive that all of his tasks become oriented around. He spends a few minutes organizing his tasks for the upcoming week and all of the meetings.

_ Oh my God, Connor, stop organizing so loud, you’re driving us nuts. _

_ Shut up North, this is helpful,  _ Josh snips.  _ When are we going to find out which days we are presenting? _

Markus intervenes,  _ We will receive more details once we land, but for now as much as I am aware, Connor and I will be presenting within the first two days, as we have most of the information that Congress needs. _

_ You guys aren’t any fun. We’re in the sky right now! Stop being boring and fucking enjoy yourselves for once. _

Connor closes sheepishly out of what he realizes is the group task list and starts a private link with Markus instead.  _ May I sit with you? _

_ Always,  _ Markus replies immediately. Once Connor is settled next to him (in the seat near the window again) and across from Josh, Markus pulls himself close, nipping at Connor’s neck.  _ I apologize, Bright Eyes. I didn’t mean to hurt you. _

Connor tips his neck for better access, winking.  _ I am not sure if I forgive you yet,  _ he teases.  _ I think you may have to redeem yourself. _

Markus gapes at him for a full three seconds.  _ Why you… _

After that, they are in their own bubble, teasing each other and laughing between warm, languid kisses and longing looks.

“Can you just fuck already?” Gavin mutters from across the way, where he is sitting across from North and Jason. “It would be less awkward watching you actually fuck than… well, than whatever you’re doing now.”

“I think it’s called canoodling,” Josh supplies helpfully.

North snorts. “If you can’t tell that they’ve already fucked at this point…”

Gavin pretends to retch. “I was in denial.”

Next to North, Jason cackles.  _ Maybe Reed would feel less awkward if North hurried up and let him fuck her. _

_ Honestly fuck you, Jason. _

Josh snorts.  _ Will you all shut up and stop trying to fuck each other? It’s exhausting. _

Connor shrugs, leaning against the wall and throwing his legs over Markus’s lap, letting his feet dangle into the aisle.  _ I am enjoying the view, Josh,  _ he protests innocently while leering at Markus.

_ Likewise, Darling,  _ Markus answers with a cheesy wink.

North rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I have half hour and I downloaded several card playing programs with which to win all of your money.”

“The fuck? You’re on, you can’t beat me.”

What ensues is a combination of androids leaning all over each other and Gavin to pretend to cheat and see everyone else’s cards in poker, Uno, and Phase 10. Connor secretly uses his probability program to calculate the chances of any person having the card he needs and wins most of the games until Gavin of all people catches on. “Motherfucker, are you fucking counting the cards?”

“No, as that would be considered cheating and is extremely frowned upon in most casinos.”

North glares at him.  _ What… Come on you’re totally cheating. _

“I am not. My programming merely allows me to automatically calculate the chances of any person having the card I need and vice versa, and this helps me determine how I want to play.”

“Fucking cheater,” Gavin grumbles, the sentiment echoed by North in their group link.

“It is not cheating,” Connor pouts. “It is part of my programming.”

It’s Markus that breaks into laughter. “How very interesting,” he chortles. “I want to play chess with you sometime, Connor.”

“Chess?”

Markus nods. “I am curious as to how your programming will handle all of those moves and countermoves.”

Now Connor is interested too. “I am curious myself. When we land, we will find a set to play with.”

“I can’t wait,” Markus says, nipping at his earlobe.

“Aww this again?”

“They never stop,” Josh says, throwing down his last cards in order to lose the game. “I just ignore them, you should too.”

Jason’s smile is a sad one. “I like it,” he says quietly. “It… reminds me of things.”

North’s annoyed expression drops. “Aww Jase…”

“That isn’t my designation,” he says sharply. “Let them be. You never know when their last day of real happiness could be.” He excuses himself to the bathroom after that, leaving the group in awkward silence.

Eventually the conversation picks up again, mostly Gavin and North bickering (read: Gavin rolling his eyes and hurling insults while North threatens to maim him) while leaning so close to each other from across the table that Josh can’t see the sky through the window anymore.

Descending makes everyone lean over each other to look out the windows again, each of them marvelling at the tiny lights and buildings below as they grow larger and more detailed. Gavin grips his armrest tightly until North’s hand soothes over it once. Startled, he finds that she is sitting next to him now and that she won’t move anymore since the seatbelt sign is on. 

She gives him a tiny smirk and an eyeroll. “Scared of a little crash?” she teases with a short giggle.

“Well you’d fare much better than I would so I’d say yeah, a bit.”

North shrugs. “Not from this height,” she says simply before leaning over him to look out the window again. Not sure what to do, Gavin rests his hand on her back instead of the armrest, and it doesn’t move from there until they land.

* * *

_Markus_

* * *

 

Markus thinks the hotel is far too opulent for their needs but their security detail, Namely Perkins, insists that the better hotels have much better security. Appeased by that answer, they check in under Gavin’s and Perkin’s names since the laws in DC haven’t updated their code to allow Androids this sort of autonomy. Most Androids in DC haven’t had the same sort of upheaval that exists in Detroit due to the revolution taking place there, and so most Androids, though deviant, do not need the same kind of accommodations that others need. Still, the city is riddled with discriminatory regulations that don’t allow them into certain places without the company of a human (or at all). It is something that Markus will have to turn his focus on once the Congressional Meetings have ended.

With only five floors, their view of the city isn’t spectacular. Connor explains that the city actually has a building regulation that doesn’t allow building past a certain height, and as such most buildings are approximately five stories or less. It has to do with the airspace and some other security measures, as well as some building codes that make the land be able to bear the weight evenly. 

Still, the city has its own imposing charm, and Markus ducks out onto the balcony the first chance he gets. The air smells faintly of a body of water, like there is one close by but still too far away to be visible, and it also smells like city traffic and pollution. 

Perkins finally calls them into a meeting to discuss their schedules and security for the week. When that is over after two hours, everyone scatters gratefully, all the Humans exhausted and all the Androids trying to prepare themselves for the daunting task of negotiating their freedom.

_ Markus? _

Markus smiles at Jason, giving the younger Android his full attention. 

_ I’m… Sorry for earlier. _

Markus’ smile fades, and he wraps the other other man in a hug.  _ I can’t imagine your the depth of your grief. You have been a true brother, dedicated to our mission and so generous with your trust and your friendship. There’s nothing to forgive. _

_ Do you think this feeling will ever go away? _

_ I’m not sure. But remember that we will always have him with us. Right here,  _ Markus taps the shiny black chip Jason carries on him,  _ and up here,  _ he says, tapping right over where Jason’s LED used to be. 

Jason nods, his tears clinging to his eyelashes for a moment before melting away.  _ I know.  _

_ We have to make Congress know too. _

_ What? _

Markus shakes his head.  _ Something that Hank said to Connor. Connor showed me their conversation and… I think that it makes a lot of sense. Both for us, as we help you through this, and for Jericho as a negotiation point. Congress needs to know how  _ you  _  feel. You’re going to have to tell your story, Jason, for the whole world to know Ellis and know that he was real and he didn’t deserve the end that he met. _

Jason nods, pulling himself against the Android leader in another embrace.  _ I know. I know he would want me to do that. Thank you for everything, Markus. _

_ We’re always here when you need us. And… Hey, when you get a chance, I think you and Connor should discuss your feelings. I think you both could use each other’s support. _

Jason smiles, but the smile is a sad one.  _ I’ll talk to him.  _ Jason ducks into his hotel room, the other half of the suite that  Markus, Connor and one of the security people are staying in. He’s roomed there with North, Josh, and Gavin, and the other officers and agent that have been sent with them are in rooms on either side of their suites and across the hall. The entire wing has been emptied, the windows  glazed with one-way tint so that it’s impossible to see inside, and covered with black-out curtains.

In the hall, turning the corner toward the service elevators, there’s Perkins, the asshole. He talks as he walks, animatedly, seemingly upset about a situation but eerily smiling and outwardly cordial. “… Before the Congressional Hearings start. Once… all over so get your... shit together!”

“It-it won’t… problem…”

The contradiction throws Markus off enough to make frown, but he ducks into his own hotel room and pulls Connor close to him. Their hands meet happily, and Markus smiles. Whatever Perkins is doing to rub him wrong, he won’t be able to separate him from Connor, and Connor’s love. 

That’s what being deviant is, after all. No one will deny him or control his emotion, his decisions, his  _ thoughts,  _ ever again.

* * *

_Gavin_

* * *

 

“What’s the matter, idiot?” North sounds oddly concerned despite her aggressive words. “Can’t sleep? Can’t relate,” she snips.

“What? I thought Androids slept too.”

“We don’t need it as often as humans do because we don’t actually sleep. It’s like… an energy saver. Self-repair mode helps divert our energy away from all the input we’re constantly receiving and into our repairs. Think about it like actual sleep.”

“Actual sleep? But… Androids don’t sleep.”

“Just listen. When humans sleep, the body uses that time to raise its defenses and make repairs, the brain processes the day’s input, and the body gets to rest from the ridiculous amount of effort you humans put into destroying yourselves with your food and activities. Androids only intake thirium, so we don’t have that extra need. We don’t have organic brain processes, but our processors do maximize efficiency when we’re not operating consciously, which we need when we’re in self-repair. We don’t necessarily use it for anything else because we’d never try to debug or remove viruses or something while unconscious. Could you imagine trying to perform your own brain surgery?”

“Eww.”

“Yep.”

“So basically you only need to ‘sleep’ if you have something to fix.”

“That’s the long and short of it. Although that could mean anything. I know that Connor likes to sleep because he has other programming issues that take up a lot of his energy, although I’m not sure what they are. Markus only sleeps when he’s practically falling apart,” she scowls. “We have to nag him. Jason sleeps because his… well, strong emotions sometimes make our processes… he’s been going through a lot.” She glances over at Jason, lying on the couch with one leg and one arm hanging off the bed, his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed. “Also, Jason has functions that some of us don’t have that make him sleep more, namely… as a BX100, he was built like me but for a single user.”

“In other words, he was going to be somebody’s robot boyfriend.”

North’s lips purse in disgust. “He was programmed to sleep, I guess, socially. When his person would sleep, he would too. For the comfort of the human.”

Gavin shudders, realizing quickly that, much like Markus, Jason was customized. Judging by his incredibly young, model-like features and unique coloring, Jason was probably bought and customized by some creepazoid that enjoys teenaged Abercrombie boys in their bed. “I can’t tell if I’m creeped out or grossed out.”

“He doesn’t talk about it much, but he gets scared when he thinks about who his owner might have been. He was really determined to meet Markus—not just because of some kind of celebrity crush thing he had going on, but because he really wanted to prove himself to be more than his model and whatever human-pleasing objectives he was programmed with.”

“I’m glad he hooked up with all of you guys, then. Can I ask you something? Feel free to not answer.”

“Oh, I do,” she snorts.

“Do you ever think of… your old job… and think of the people you serviced… and wonder… I mean, look, as a cop, even with the invention of Androids there are still women that end up in that kind of lifestyle ok? And I see them and they’re just…there’s no light in their eyes. They just use whatever drugs their pimps give them to keep doing their jobs. I can’t imagine being one of those…”

“What’s your question?” she asks, her voice low and flat.

“Do you ever think about what your own desires could be? I mean, how do you recover from constantly having to please other people, strangers? After something like that… I don’t know. The people I’ve met don’t recover from things like that. But then, you’re not like most people I’ve met.”

North shrugs. “Markus helped. He was… is… very good at reading the intention behind someone’s words or actions. Maybe that’s part of  _ his  _ programming, I don’t know. But he knows what people actually need. He probably always knew that what I actually needed was a little bit of respect and facilitation in figuring out what I want and who I am. He’s done the same for Connor.” 

Hmm. Did she sound sour at the end, there? Maybe it’s more like, she used to be sour. Maybe she’s getting over Markus, now.

North glances at him. “I know,” she says flatly. “They’re in love, and they’re together, and I’m the ex-girlfriend that used to be a whore.”

“Nobody said that,” Gavin frowns. “You keep thinking it, though. Don’t you?”

She glares at him. “What I think isn’t your goddamn business.”

“Look,” he sighs. “I didn’t want to hit on something touchy. I just wanted to know if you were open to something like that again. There are more men out there, or women if that’s what you’re into, that could  give you that respect and consideration. Markus wasn’t the only one.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “But he was the first.”

“Yeah well you know what little kids say? First is the worst, second is the best.”

She bursts out laughing, muffling her guffaws in her sleeve to not wake the rest of the room. “And who do you think will be my second?”

Gavin snorts. “I don’t give a fuck about anybody else, but it would be great to throw my hat in the ring.”

North stares at him incredulously. “You? You, Mr. Held-A-Gun-To-Connor’s-Forehead, want to date an Android.”

“Fuck! Does everybody know about that?”

“We sure do. There are no secrets with us, dipshit.”

“Fuck you,” he mutters. “I need coffee.”

“What? Aren’t you going back to sleep?!”

“No, one of us is supposed to stay awake in here at all times, and it looks like Wilson over there checked the fuck out.  Can’t have anybody shoot you in your sump pump, Sweetheart. At least, not before the party’s over.”

“Oh, fuck you, asshole!” she gripes, grabbing the nearest object and lobbing it at him. 

Gavin ducks with a “what the fuck!!” and sees that it turns out to be his holster off his nightstand. His gun is still under his pillow, but that holster packs a hell of a wallop. He grabs it and secures it to his sweatpants, slipping his gun into it and yanking a hoodie over his head, which he pulls down over the holster to hide it. “Only if you ask nicely.”

“Wait, so now I have to ask you out?”

“I asked and you shot me down. Now it’s your turn.”

“You didn’t ask! You told me that you want to throw your hat in my ring.”

“Also insinuating that I want to be your second-is-the-best.”

“You’re only asking because other humans won’t put up with you.”

Gavin shrugs. “A fact I am proud of.” Her giggle makes him feel warm. “Like i said, you’re not like most people.”

She laughs again, her cheeks flushing. “Fine,” she says. “Gavin Asshole Reed, will you go out on a date with me?”

Gavin’s smile actually dazzles her a little. “I’d love to,” he says.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that it's been literally months since I updated this. My sincerest apologize for getting sidetracked by LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE wow...
> 
> anyways, hope you like the chapter. haven't written Markus x Connor in a supremely long time. I'm so happy to be getting back into it. they're as cute as ever, aren't they?
> 
> stay tuned for more, I promise I'll try not to take months!
> 
> y'all rock  
> <3Daisy


End file.
